A Second Life
by Alida Ravene Armstrong
Summary: A planned auror raid on a rogue vampire hive is ruined when the vampires abandon their nest. What happens when the only survivor is the long thought dead Draco Malfoy? Post-Hogwarts, Harry/Draco Slash, Slightly AU but not much .
1. Chapter 1 Fate, the Cruel Lover

**A/N:** Hey, everyone! This is my first attempt at a Drarry Fic, so please be gentle! Also, I have yet to find a beta reader, so this chapter is beta'd by me. Thus all mistakes are my own. Anybody who would like a stab at helping me beta later chapters would be most welcome! :)

**Summary:** The aurors have been working for weeks planning a raid on a rogue vampire hive. However, the hive seems to have moved on before our heroes could arrive. What happens when the only surviving victim is the long thought to be dead Draco Malfoy?

**Warnings:** The biggest warning is that, even though I know where I'm planning for this to go, other things may happen. I will update warnings as necessary. For right now, warnings include M/M Slash (Harry/Draco), torture, blood and gore, sexual content (both consensual and non-con), and character death (for now, pre-story, but I make no promises).

**A Second Life**

**Chapter 1 - Fate, The Cruel Lover**

"Yes, Mione," the redhead answered in a bored tone and with an almost imperceptible roll of his blue eyes. Unfortunately for him, even the crackling and shifting embers of the floo did nothing to hide his irritability from his wife.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," the frizzy-haired woman practically spat back through the floo, "do NOT patronize me! Now, I know you and Harry have been planning this ambush for weeks, but—"

"Hermione, give it a rest already!" Harry's flustered voice called from behind Ron's shoulder. "He's with me and we've got a whole team of auror backup. Everything will be fine!" Harry peeked around his best mate to catch the worried and aggravated look on Hermione's face in the floo.

"Hmph…" she answered, her face finally morphing from irritated annoyance to concern. She sighed deeply before continuing. "You boys know I just worry about you, especially on these major missions. You're not going after your run-of-the-mill criminals tonight, you realize, and you specifically Ron have more reason than most to come home safely."

Harry arched a dark eyebrow as Ron's face began to darken to match his hair. "I'll explain later, mate," he whispered harshly towards Harry before continuing to speak with his wife. "And I promise, 'Mione, I'll be back by dawn…"

"And in one piece?" she asked with an arched eyebrow of her own.

"I swear on Gryffindor's sword that I'll return your husband in one piece, even if I have to kill him to do it." Harry solemnly raised his left hand to cover his heart and lifted his right palm in promise.

Ron simply let his eyes roll again as his wife gave another sigh. "Just be careful," Hermione finally said, before cracking a wry smile. "And watch your necks, eh?" With that, the floo connection sizzled out.

"Finally," Ron huffed out in exasperation. He loved Hermione, Merlin knows he did, but sometimes her worrying just got to be too much! He was a fully grown 25-year-old wizard trained from both the war against Voldemort (which had ended some eight years ago) and from years of auror experience. Not to mention he had the bloody Boy-Who-Lived as a partner. So what if he held the record for most days spent in St. Mungo's? He always managed to come back relatively unscathed…

Ron was drawn back out of his musings by the sound of a throat clearing behind him. He turned around and looked sheepishly into the pair of green eyes drilling into him. "So," Harry began in his most innocent voice, "what exactly did Hermione mean about having a particular reason to come home? Hmmmmmm?"

Ron sheepishly avoided his friend's gaze and began walking towards their office door. "Oh, it's nothing really...Just Hermione being her normal overly concerned self." Ron had just managed to turn the doorknob to begin walking out the door when he felt the door pull against him and slam, the sound of a locking charm firmly clicking into place in front of him. With a flustered sigh he turned back towards his best friend, who was leaning nonchalantly against his desk while fiddling with his wand.

"Bollocks," Harry replied with an almost bored tone in his voice. He eventually dropped the carefree attitude to stare deeply into Ron's face, looking for signs of deception. He finally rolled his eyes and sighed. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

Ron dropped his eyes again and began biting at his already too short fingernails. "I know, mate," he said, barely above a whisper. "It's just…Hermione's pregnant, and well, after last time…" his voice trailed off as his eyes began staring blankly at his shoes.

"You're afraid of what will happen?" Harry asked, his voice full of concern as he reached over to place a comforting hand on Ron's shoulder. Harry could feel the slight shaking under his fingers and knew his friend was hiding the better part of his emotions.

Finally, Ron dropped into a chair in front of the desk and lifted his eyes to meet Harry's again. "I suppose, mate. I mean, I know what happened to Gin isn't likely to happen to 'Mione, but still…" His voice began quivering ever so slightly as it dropped into a whisper again. "Plus…I mean, I worry terribly about my wife, I do, but the truth is I was more worried about you…What would happen when you found out…You were so devastated when…that happened…"

"You mean when I lost Gin and James," Harry smiled sadly down at his best friend, his eyes glistening just slightly. His voice had dropped into a whisper as well. "And it's not just about me. I know you miss her, too, Ron, but it's been six years. No one will ever replace her, or him, in my eyes or in yours. But we have healed, we've moved on." His smile brightened into a grin as he clumsily drew his auror robes under his glasses to wipe away the incipient tears. "I am really happy for you, Ron. Enjoy this time! I loved watching Gin throughout the pregnancy. It seemed that she got more beautiful everyday." He paused to sigh and gaze unseeing into the distance beyond Ron's face before continuing. "If anyone deserves the happiness, it's you and Hermione." He shook his head suddenly before punching Ron playfully in the arm. "Just you get ready for the morning sickness, eh?"

Ron finally let out a deep breath he didn't know he'd been holding before grinning stupidly up at Harry. "Oh, I imagine 'Mione's already researching her very own morning sickness remedy, forgetting of course that she did the same for Gin and never found anything." Ron finally stood and stretched before flicking his wand at the door, releasing the locking charm and thus signaling the end of the conversation. "In any case, we've got a hive of rogue vampires to catch tonight, and seeing as how it's already mid afternoon, I'm going to try to catch a couple of hours of sleep before we head out. Can't expect me to be on my best game without a proper rest now, can we?"

Harry grinned sheepishly before stepping off the desk and returning to his seat. "I've got some paperwork to catch up with here, but I might join you in a bit."

Ron yawned obnoxiously before stepping out the door. "I'll be on the sofa in the lounge if you need me. If I try to go home to nap that damned kneazle will be trying to sleep on my face."

* * *

As soon as the door had shut behind his partner, Harry replaced the locking charm and added a silencing charm for good measure. He turned to the one tiny window in the room, spelling it dark, before the whispered "Nox" tossed the room into darkness. Harry pressed his fingertips into his eyelids, willing the tension headache to dissipate. Harry had not been lying when he mentioned paperwork to be done. He just had no intention of doing it. The truth was that his conversation with Ron had left him with emotions he felt he needed to spend time processing alone. Harry had never been one to deal well with his emotions, and he certainly was never one for sharing them freely. No, his feelings were best left tended to in the darkness of a lonely room, where they couldn't hurt those around him.

_"Harry, I'm quite fine," Ginny gently held her fiancé's hand and brought it up to her cheek. "The healers are just worried about my blood pressure a bit. It's quite common in pregnancies. You've had a rough week at work, so please just go home and get some sleep. For me. I won't be able to rest if I know you're spending all night worrying. I'll be waiting for you to pick me up in the morning." She smirked coyly and gestured to the chair next to the hospital bed. "Besides, if my mother finds out you spent the evening sleeping in that terribly uncomfortable-looking chair she'll have your hide for breakfast."_

_Harry sighed and reluctantly pressed his lips to Ginny's forehead. "Fine, fine, fine. Can't have Molly get heartburn from eating my hide, now can we?" He smiled before lowering his lips to hers. "I love you, Gin." He then moved down the hospital bed to place a gentle kiss on the tiny bump on her lower abdomen. "You too, James." He smiled broadly, if with a bit of a concerned expression on his face. He headed for the exit of the room and began to step through the door before turning back to face his future wife and unborn son. _

_Ginny smiled beatifically up at him as the setting sun cast long streams of light through the window. At that moment, Harry couldn't help but to think just how much she looked like an angel. She gazed at her fiancé for a moment more before her eyelids began to flutter, the light sedative she'd been given earlier finally kicking in. "We love you, Harry James Potter." Harry grinned in spite of himself before walking out of St. Mungo's and back to his flat._

It had been the last time he'd ever heard his sweet Ginny's voice. It was a sudden onset of eclampsia followed by cerebral hemorrhage, a sudden, tragic, and unexpected end to a life that had finally been free. In a short series of moments, Harry felt like he had lost his entire future. His fiancé and his son had been taken away by a sharp twist of fate. They had just learned the gender of their unexpected (but very welcome) child the week before. The healers, of course, had done everything they could for Ginny, and had even tried to save the drastically underdeveloped child to no avail. By the time a mediwitch had flooed into his flat shortly after midnight that night, it was too late. Mother and child were both gone.

Harry continued to apply pressure to his eyes, his glasses now tossed near where his elbows rested on his desktop. Harry did, in fact, feel happy for his best friends. Hermione and Ron had decided to wait until they were a bit older before starting a family, but now they were both well-established and ready to put the effort into raising kids and balancing careers. But no, happiness is not what Harry felt right now.

Bitterness had been most of what Harry had felt since Ginny's death. After a year or two he had finally been able to step back in the light of day (figuratively speaking), finally rejoining his friends in some semblance of a life. But those who knew Harry, who REALLY knew him, could see past the façade. They could see past the bright smiles and the raucous laughter to the pain. Harry had spent the first seventeen years of his life bouncing from one trial to the next. First the Dursleys, then Hogwarts with its yearly near-brushes with death, then the final destruction of Voldemort and a brush with ACTUAL death. After the lost had been mourned and lives had begun to rebuild, it seemed like Harry was finally going to have his happy ending.

Ginny and Harry had resumed their relationship shortly after Voldemort's ultimate demise. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Harry DID love Ginny and found comfort in the reliability of their relationship. When she had discovered she was pregnant, Harry did what any boyfriend in love with a pregnant girlfriend would do: he proposed. Harry was finally getting everything he ever wanted: a family.

_Fate fucks me over yet again,_ he had often thought to himself in the following days. Harry did, of course, realize that his friends had been as heartbroken as he was over Ginny's death, but Ginny did not just represent another loss to him. No, he had had plenty of those during the war. Ginny represented the death of his life. For six years he had been walking around as a shell of who he had once been.

To make matters worse, now he had the burden of guilt placed upon his shoulders. Intellectually, he knew he had no reason to feel guilty. He had plenty of reason, no matter how irrational, to be jealous of his friends' good fortune. He also knew that, for their sake, he would hide just how jealous their happy life made him feel, how alone and lost he felt, and how his chest ached for what he had lost. But guilt he would feel, nonetheless, because not only could he NOT feel completely happy for his friends: he also couldn't give them the benefit of knowing just how unhappy he was.

* * *

"GOD DAMN IT TO THE SEVENTH LAYER OF A FIERY BRIMSTONE HELL!!!!" Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice roared throughout the caverns where teams of aurors were fruitlessly searching. The looming gentleman's dark features had turned even darker as his temper seemed to rise even higher. Harry couldn't say that his temper was any better. The only thing restraining him from punching the cavern wall was knowing that, if he did, he would likely break a knuckle and require a trip to St. Mungo's. He had experienced a tough enough night without adding the hassle of a healer's visit.

Minister Shacklebolt had insisted on accompanying the aurors on this particular raid, which had been weeks in the planning. A rogue group of vampires, led by a certain vampire only known as "DarkStar," had spent the last several months terrorizing the area around London. Vampires and wizards had lived somewhat amicably in the years since Voldemort's defeat, as the Ministry had continued making various attempts to treaty with differing vampire clans. Most clans were more than happy to follow the rules set forth by the Ministry: they were to attack only to feed, and not to kill while doing so; they were to obliviate victims who did not consent to the feeding; they were not to turn any victims without permission of the victim; and they were never to torture. DarkStar's "hive," as it called itself, felt no love for the Ministry. It felt it had no need for the Ministry's protection, and therefore felt no need to follow its rules.

The reports received from the wizarding sections of London was bad enough. Dozens of wizards had gone missing in the past six weeks alone, only to be found completely drained of all blood with evidence of physical torture on and within their broken bodies. Of the two known survivors of DarkStar's hive, both had been turned and briefly confined to St. Mungo's before being released. Both had soon thereafter committed suicide.

To make matters worse, DarkStar didn't restrict his activities to wizards. Many muggles had likewise felt his torture, and none had managed to survive. The obliviators were working overtime, too, seeing as how the hive didn't seem to care whether they were seen.

Various informants had been feeding information to the aurors as they could, tracking the individuals that made up the hive and following their movements. The particular underground cavern where the aurors now searched had been the latest known nesting site for the hive. A few more missing wizards had been found within the caverns, completely drained of blood, but not a living vampire in sight. It seemed that the hive had moved on.

"Or they knew we were coming," Harry mumbled to himself. Weeks of planning, primarily by Ron, Kingsley, and himself, had been wasted. And for what? A few bodies? At least, he supposed, they would be able to notify the families of what had happened to their kin. As if the missing vampires weren't enough, Harry was doubly troubled by the fact that they had yet to find any survivors.

Harry took a deep breath. "Oi, Ron! Kingsley! I'm heading in this direction! Looks like there's a second entrance this way!" Harry could see the faint traces of the dawn beginning to creep its way into the darkened cave in the distance.

Ron and Kingsley both nodded as they began using _mobilicorpus_ to lift the bodies of the deceased towards the main cavern entrance. "Be careful, alright, mate? Send us a patronus if you need us!" Ron held his nose as he got near a particularly old corpse. The maggots had already set into the long gashes that had been cut into the thighs and calves of the now faceless wizard. One could only assume the intention had been to make him unable to run.

Keeping a _lumos_ glowing at the end of his wand, Harry slowly made his way towards the light in the distance. He doubted he would run into anymore vampires—or any survivors—on his way through the caverns, but one could never be too sure. He gradually forced his instincts to block out the sounds of aurors rummaging behind him in the previous caverns and instead listened to what lay ahead of him. He heard only the stillness of the cave, with the occasionally gust of wind, which he assumed was coming from this second exit.

However, as Harry crept closer towards the light, he heard an almost inaudible rasping sound, like air forced through a raw throat. Keeping his wand at the ready, he whispered "_Nox"_ as he continued silently towards the source of the sound. He rounded a corner, finding both the end of the tunnel and the source of the sound.

A body lay sprawled out on the ground, the head and arms towards Harry while the legs pointed towards the slowly approaching sun. As Harry approached, he noticed the large gashes cutting through the muscles on the back of the body's thighs and calves. A more careful examination proved they'd been cauterized to prevent any natural or basic magical healing. Harry could only assume, like the wizard they'd found earlier, the victim hadn't been intended to be able to run. Drag marks on the ground seemed to indicate that the victim had tried to crawl further into the cave, away from the light, but hadn't been very successful. However, that wasn't the most disturbing aspect of the nude body's appearance. The entirety of the being's skin (for it almost didn't seem human) seemed to be a pale gray, the color of ash, with a series of cracks making the skin seem more like a patchwork of rock than living, breathing skin.

In fact, Harry was surprised to find the body breathing at all. The rasping sound certainly _seemed_ to be coming from the body before him, and as he watched he saw the unsteady rising and falling of the emaciating back, Harry couldn't help but smile. They had found a survivor! Maybe this person could give them more information on where the hive was fleeing next! Harry quickly stepped through the darkness to approach the being's side. He noticed that as the sun began casting longer streams of light into the cavern, the rasping coming from the body seemed to become a pained whimper. As he looked towards the victim's feet, he noticed what resembled steam rising from the very ends of the toes, which were just now bathed in sunlight. He noticed that the cracking of the skin became even more pronounced at the bottoms of the feet as he watched them seem to cook in the sun.

_Oh…OH!!! _Harry quickly realized what the problem was. This victim, whoever he was, had been turned before being abandoned. His legs having been ruined—most likely while still human—the hive had left this new vampire to slowly die as he was exposed to sunlight. Vampires, of course, were allergic to sunlight in any form, but it would take days of direct exposure to actually die from it. In the meantime, it was undoubtedly incredibly painful, and from the looks of it the poor thing could survive maybe another hour, at most.

Harry quickly knelt by the body and was surprised to see eyes flutter open. Harry gazed at the grey irises in shock as he began to piece together the identity of the unfortunate victim. Grey, piercing eyes, pupils constricting in the ever increasing sunlight. Fine silver-blonde hair, matted in places to an almost brown color by dirt and blood. Emaciated frame with long, feminine features.

Harry had just found the long missing Draco Malfoy.

Harry quickly cast _mobilicorpus_ on the trembling form and backed him away from the increasing sunlight. "Malfoy, can you understand me?" Harry whispered desperately from near the young man's torso. It was obvious the poor creature would have trouble moving, but Harry had no desire to come near the mouth of a vampire that may or may not be hungry. Harry imagined the former.

Malfoy's pupils continued to dilate and contract as if fighting for his vision to clear. They sought out Harry's face before giving an almost imperceptible nod. Malfoy's lips were moving, but it seemed that his voice would allow him to give little more than a whimper.

Harry took the nod as a yes and continued speaking. "Have you fed recently?" he whispered again into the suffering face. Malfoy seemed to try to move his head again, only to increase the trembling now racking his body. _"No,"_ he seemed to mouth, although no sound came out.

Harry sighed. "OK, then we should take care of that first." Harry reached to the ground and picked up a stone, which he quickly transfigured into an ordinary goblet. Harry pointed his wand at his left forearm before throwing a weak slashing hex, drawing a thin line of blood to the surface. He carefully allowed enough blood to fill the goblet before quickly casting a basic healing charm at his arm. Very cautiously, he approached Malfoy with the goblet before pressing it to the young man's lips. "Drink," he ordered.

Malfoy's eyes seemed to flicker from the goblet, back to Harry's face, and back to the goblet again, before allowing his lips to part at the edge of the goblet. As Malfoy's tongue began gently lapping at the liquid, Harry cautiously stepped around to help support the ashen-faced head so that he might drink more easily.

Having emptied the goblet, Malfoy seemed to have regained his voice, if not much else. "Potter," he intoned weakly. Surprised at the unexpected soft but harsh sound, Harry turned again to face Malfoy.

"Yes?" Harry continued to whisper in the dark.

"Whatever else you may do," Malfoy struggled, taking another rasping breath, "don't let them come back. Get me out of here." With that final plea—and did Harry actually see _pleading_ in Malfoy's eyes?—the grey eyes began to flicker shut.

"I promise, Malfoy," he whispered as the troubled breathing seemed to even somewhat. Harry quickly shot off a patronus to Ron, detailing what he'd found, before casting _mobilicorpus_ on Malfoy's form again. Maybe one good thing would come out of this raid: he might have more information on DarkStar an

* * *

_Reviews = Love. Or hate. Constuctive criticism is always accepted with open arms. I use flames to set off Roman candles. :)_

_Oh, and P.S. -- This chapter has been updated primarily for one or two grammatical things. No need to re-read.  
_


	2. Chapter 2 Awakening

A/N: Sorry for the time between updates! The truth is I'm still working and getting ready to move at the moment, so I don't anticipate them coming any faster. A big thanks to those who have reviewed so far! I love reviews! Also, a reminder, this story is thus far unbeta'd (except by me), so any mistakes are my own. If you catch anything terribly glaring that in my sleepy state I am not catching, please let me know and I'll fix it ASAP! Enjoy and have a great week!

A/N #2: Okay, so here is a re-upload of Chapter 2. I was not pleased with how it turned out, most likely because it was written quite late at night when I was running on little sleep. I have made SOME adjustments, mainly in the last scene of the chapter, so you may wish to re-read that before I upload Chapter 3, which should be coming sometime tonight. Remember, reviews are love! :)

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Awakening**

Draco felt as if he were swimming in a murky sea of molasses. It was as if he were constantly struggling to find some sort of awareness, some anchor to reality, but the second he seemed to have latched onto some small sound, some tiny glimmer of light, it was stolen again by the darkness of unconsciousness.

How long had it been since he had been abandoned by the hive in that cave? A day? Three days? A week? He had tried, at first, to escape the ever encroaching rays of the sun, but even a vampire's strength hadn't been able to make his ruined legs work. He might have been able to drag himself further away from the sunlight with his upper body strength alone, but as all the other human captives of the hive had been murdered long before, his "father" (as DarkStar had often referred to himself on the days Draco was "blessed" with his presence) hadn't even left him with someone from which to feed.

Draco had thought he had experienced pain while in the months – maybe even years – of his slavery. The beatings, the torture, the…violations…he had experienced while still human. All of those seemed beneficent as he felt – and smelt – his flesh as it bubbled, dried, cooked in the brightness of the sun. At least two days he knew he had been left there, exposed, seen by no one other than the other vampires of the hive as they appeared to be preparing to flee their nest. Draco did not know why he had hoped, expected even, at least one of those passing by to look on their long-term "companion" with pity. Even had any of the subservient vamps felt moved to assist Draco in his predicament, he knew they wouldn't. Fear of the master vampire, the leader of the hive, would keep them from lending aid. He had been marked to die at last, no longer even worthy to accompany the hive as their plaything. He had finally become utterly and completely broken.

So imagine his surprise, when only hours after the last vampires had retreated from their hideaway, a boy – no, man – with that unmistakable aura, that _presence_, crept into his line of vision. By then he had lost all hope of rescue, and had simply determined to wait for the coming of the sun, and the eventual release of the prison that had become of his body. Ironic, how on the very eve of his freedom, he should find himself enslaved again, indebted to the Savior of the Wizarding World.

Draco hardly recognized his own voice as he pleaded for help. "Get me out of here." He had felt the spell that lifted him from his precarious position on the dirty ground just as his mind retreated into unconsciousness.

* * *

_"Surely you don't think…"_

_"Mr. Potter, we simply haven't the resources…"_

_"There's nothing more we can do…"_

_"He WAS just a Death Eater…"_

"And what exactly am I going to do with you now, Malfoy?"

For hours, days, it seemed Draco had been picking up only bits of conversation, of awareness. He imagined, without his improved sense of hearing, he would have been oblivious to anything that had been going on around him. With the last spoken word, the mention of his name without disgust, but only resigned exasperation, seemed to force him to at last regain some sense of consciousness.

Having been in peril enough times since his ordeal began, Draco knew that he shouldn't betray his awareness, not just yet. Instead, he began using his improved senses to seek out as much information as his environment could give him. Even with his eyelids closed, he could feel the dim flickers of candlelight illuminating wherever it was. So, either it was after sunset, or powerful darkening charms had been used on any nearby windows. Or, even more likely, he was somewhere without windows at all. Some new torture chamber or prison cell, most likely.

But then Draco took in the feel of soft cotton sheets surrounding him, enveloping him in warmth. _Definitely not St. Mungo's_, he thought to himself, although he acknowledged it had been quite a while, since the end of the war in fact, since he'd felt the scratchy sheets of a hospital bed. _Most likely not the Ministry, either…_

Draco then sharpened his hearing, but aside from his own still somewhat raspy breathing, he felt the presence of only one other person in the room, one calm, but seemingly apprehensive rhythm of breath, one maddening pounding of heartbeat under skin that seemed to give off the most enticing smell of a fine merlot…

And that's when he felt it, the hunger burrowing in his stomach, threatening to burn him alive from the inside out. And he remembered the taste of that fine merlot-flavored life force, flowing down his throat as his rescuer held the nape of his neck for support.

Draco could no longer continue the charade of sleep anymore than he could stop being a Malfoy – though that was not nearly such an unpleasant thought as it might have been in his youth. He felt his upper body lift from the bed he inhabited with a force and a swiftness that he himself could not imagine completing, only to be met with thick bands of metal – most likely silver – winding around his wrists and preventing him from moving more than a few feet from the headboard of the bed. He glanced down quickly at his feet to discover the same adornment around his ankles, though quick attempts to move his legs at all proved fruitless.

Draco quickly looked up towards the source of the voice, his eyes seeming to bulge out of his skull with rage. The only thing that mattered about his bonds were that they were keeping him from that heartbeat, from that pumping that continued to tease so ruthlessly in Draco's ears, calling to him, insisting that he reach out and claim it, submit to it, ANYTHING, so long as the pressure in his stomach and the ever-increasing burning in his veins would stop.

Potter seemed to give a start when Draco had practically tried to fling himself off of the bed, but quickly regained his composure and seemed to smirk – and since when did Potter _smirk?_ – at Draco.

"What, Malfoy?" he asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. "Did you really think I would leave a hungry vampire unbound within the sanctuary of my home? I know you thought me a dullard in school, but please give me SOME credit."

Draco might have come up with a scathing retort, if anything Potter said was reaching his ears. All he could see was the slight pulse of blood at the base of Potter's throat. All he could hear was the relentless thumping in his ears.

Potter, seemingly understanding his lack of attention, simply sighed. He pointed his wand to a table near Draco's bedside, levitating a goblet that must have been previously placed there.

"Drink," he said while levitating the goblet so that it was at Draco's eye level and within his shortened reach. As soon as Draco's eyes connected with the goblet, and his nose picked up the slightly coppery smell radiating from within it, he grasped onto it as if afraid it would vanish in an instant, before throwing back his head and guzzling the liquid down his throat. Had he been looking at Potter, Draco might have seen him flinch slightly at the sight of the thick red liquid escaping through the corners of his mouth and down his chin to land on the dark blue pajamas he seemed to have acquired since his rescue.

Draco could focus on nothing, however, but the feel of that magical liquid running down his throat, soothing the burning within his veins starting at his stomach and radiating outward. In moments he felt his calm returning, his hearing sharpening, and his focus flit away from the overwhelming hunger he'd felt so strongly before. And in that instant, fear seemed to have returned to Draco's world.

The goblet fell from his now trembling hands and rolled off the bed onto the dark carpeted floor. Draco's eyes darted around the room wildly, looking for a source of escape. There was of course, the door leading outside of the room, and a single window opposite said door, but both seemed to glow faintly in Draco's vision from what he assumed was the magic of wards placed around the room. The silver bonds he'd been restrained by also seemed to glow with that sort of magic, as if, even without his wand, Draco was some sort of threat. Draco felt himself growing hysterical, and finally let out a soft chuckle that soon enveloped him into a raging fit of laughter.

Potter seemed baffled by Draco's sudden hysteria, hesitantly reaching as if to place a hand on Draco's ankle, the closest he felt safe to touch without coming within striking distance of his bound hands or fangs. "Malfoy?" he asked hesitantly, and the mock concern Draco felt radiating from those emerald eyes only seemed to heighten him to new levels of hysteria.

Then Potter's hand seemed to grasp onto the ankle it had been hovering, and the world returned to pain. Draco let out a muffled sob before collapsing into the bed in pained shivers. He tried in vain to pull his leg from Potter's grasp, but the realization that he still couldn't move his legs only drove him into further sobbing.

"Shit," Malfoy heard Potter say, almost under his breath. "I'm so sorry, Malfoy. I forgot the healers said it would still be painful to apply any pressure." Draco struggled to breath. It seemed as if Potter's innocent attempt to comfort him had brought awareness of the state of his cracking skin back to Draco, and he squirmed helplessly on the duvet as what had felt like a soft cloud became harsh as sandpaper.

Luckily for Draco, he had become more than capable of bearing out the sort of pain he was facing now. He forced himself to calm down and relax, hoping that by not shuffling anymore against his bonds or the bedclothes, he would at least manage not to irritate his cracked skin anymore than was necessary.

Potter seemed to watch him as Draco's breathing returned to normal before attempting to speak again. "I really am sorry, Malfoy. The Healers – well – they didn't seem to know how to help you. They just said you'd need to stay away from sunlight for a while until your body had the chance to repair the damage yourself. I suppose the fact that you haven't really fed in Merlin knows how long hasn't helped, and I can only spare so much blood from myself."

"Not that the Healers would help, even if they could." Draco kept his voice cool and monotone, even as Potter jerked a little, he supposed in shock of hearing Draco's voice. Draco allowed himself the privilege of a slight smirk, though both speaking and the gesture continued to crack at his abused skin. Draco did his best to conceal the pain, however. He had already found himself physically vulnerable to Potter. No reason to include any emotional ammunition for Potter to add to his arsenal later. "I am nothing more than the Mark on my arm to the wizarding world."

Potter seemed to be at a loss of words for the moment, which increased Draco's mood considerably.

"So, where's the Weaslette?" Draco asked off-handedly. He had not seen nor smelt any evidence of Ginny Weasley's existence since he had woken, and Potter HAD said that they were in his home. Surely he must be living with his fiancée' by now.

Draco looked up and was surprised to see Potter's face gone slack with what appeared to be shock. His face was pale, and it seemed that he had somehow instantly broken into a sweat. Draco couldn't help but allow his face to contort in confusion, again shooting slight shocks of pain through his facial muscles.

"Malfoy," Potter began after several moments, although his courage seemed to falter mid-thought. For once Draco decided to keep his mouth shut and allow any information to come to him. Merlin knew he'd been out of contact with the rest of the wizarding world since his abduction, but surely he hadn't been gone long enough for the two to have broken up. They had been together since Potter's sixth year of Hogwarts, even if they hadn't been "officially" together during the worst part of the war, and no one had been surprised when they reunited afterwards. They were just one of those couples who seemed to have been made for each other, as disgusting as the thought still seemed to make Draco.

"Malfoy," he began again, "How long do you think you've been missing? I mean, since you disappeared from the wizarding world. I mean, I assume you've probably been with the hive most of the time, but I guess I can't know that for sure."

Malfoy shrugged before he closed his eyes and wincing in pain. _Gotta stick to the verbal answers, right_, he reminded himself as the jolt of pain he'd caused in his shoulders faded back into the dull throb his entire body seemed to be housing. "I don't rightly know. I remember it was shortly after you killed…You-Know-Who…The world was celebrating, except for those of us on the…wrong…side." Even now, Draco had trouble admitting that the winners had deserved to win, but he felt no reason to antagonize Potter now, as vulnerable as he was. "I didn't even know anyone had noticed the Malfoys had disappeared. I suppose you must have found Mother and Father…back at the manor?" Draco turned to meet Potter's eyes briefly. Potter gave a brief nod before Malfoy turned his head away again. "The monsters that killed them…They decided I was just too pretty to be left there." Draco shivered with the remembered disgust, the pain, the violation. "So I became an unwilling hitchhiker if you will, drug from place to place as the…hive…moved. I really have no idea how long I've been gone. They kept me under sleep spells during daylight, and when they didn't feel like…playing…with me. Frankly, I preferred unconsciousness anyway."

Draco glanced back over at Potter, who now seemed to be staring at him with an intent expression that seemed to make Draco's skin catch on fire, and not from the uncomfortable slide of fabric across his skin. He quickly returned his eyes to the ceiling before he continued.

"In any case, I don't have any idea what's been happening since I left." Draco longed to give a nonchalant shrug, but knowing that would only cause him agony, he gave a careful sigh instead. "So hit me with the bad news…How long have I been gone? And why haven't you answered my original question? We all know the Weaslette wouldn't have left the Savior of the Wizarding World. She would have been downright STUPID to give up the perks of being with the Chosen One." Draco had been trying to keep his tone neutral, but the bitterness simply wouldn't stay away.

Draco took a chance at looking at Potter again. The intent stare he'd seen only moments before had turned into a harsh glare, and the pale skin Draco had seen only minutes before seemed to have flushed with rage. The magic around Potter seemed to crackle, and Draco thought he could make out the candles around the room giving slight shudders with the power emanating throughout the room.

"Malfoy, you disappeared almost eight years ago." Draco couldn't help but hitch his breath, no matter how hard he tried to hide his emotions. _Eight years???_ He had been kept as little more than a torture and sex toy for that band of monsters for close to a _decade???_ He knew his eyes were threatening to widen impossibly from the shock, so he elected to close them to keep Potter from knowing how his words affected him. Draco could still feel the enraged magic floating through the air, though, and he heard the anger in Potter's voice when he spoke again. "And Ginny's been dead for six." Draco heard the body in the room shift and shuffle towards the door he'd seen earlier, before he heard the door slam shut.

And there, in the privacy of that small bedroom, Draco allowed his first tears to fall, in pain, from the trauma and shock of his ordeal, and in grief, for the lives he had lost, and for those who had been left unmourned.

* * *

Harry didn't know why he'd found himself in front of his fireplace pacing, the rage that he'd become so good at controlling crackling wildly as magic seemed to sprout in sparks from his fingertips.

_He didn't know,_ Harry had to remind himself over and over again. _He couldn't have known, he had no way of knowing, and you have no way of knowing what he's been through_. Harry didn't LIKE the git, that was to be sure, but he also knew he had no way of understanding the tortures Malfoy had been through. DarkStar and his followers had left a bloody trail of torture and death in their wake, and Malfoy had been in their company for close to a decade. Harry could not afford to lose the trust of the one eyewitness he had managed to keep alive.

Harry knew, of course, that the bad blood between himself and Malfoy would make building trust an unlikely event, but he thought they had at least gotten a decent start. Harry had shown he meant Malfoy no harm in bringing him into his home, trying to keep his hunger at bay, and attempting to get him some medical attention. Malfoy seemed to have accepted his own physical vulnerability and had shared his experiences in DarkStar's company, however vaguely, with Harry. Harry couldn't help but feeling if he just kept his patience, and continuing on the current track, then he could maybe at least get some useful information out of the ordeal, and maybe in the meantime help Malfoy adjust to his new…existence.

Harry heard the chime of the floo before looking down and seeing Hermione's face appear in the flames.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively when she saw him pacing in front of the fireplace. "I'm sorry for calling you so late, but I figured you would be up anyway since Malfoy would be waking sometime tonight."

Harry sighed deeply before looking towards his best friend. "Yes, he's awake. Or at least he was. Sunrise will be soon and I'm sure he'll drift back off to sleep. He seems to be in a great deal of pain, so I imagine unconsciousness is probably a preferred state at the moment."

"I really am sorry about that," Hermione said with what seemed to be genuine remorse. "You know the Healers and their…opinions…towards former Death Eaters." Harry couldn't help but smile at Hermione. Ever the underdog, even when those carrying the Mark had cost her so much. Just one of the many reasons Harry loved her. "But I am definitely working. Give me another day or so and I'll see if I can find something to help speed his healing along, and maybe a way for him to feed without you having to go around cutting yourself everyday."

Harry sighed. If only she knew… "It's really not a big deal, 'Mione. It's not like it takes THAT much blood to keep him satisfied, at least temporarily. I don't know what he'll do when he's back to full strength, but for now it seems to be enough."

"It does worry me, though," Hermione continued, still lost in what must be her musings from the research she'd conducted the day before. "I am wondering why his legs have shown no signs of healing at all. Do me a favor, won't you, and look him over again once he's asleep. No need to disturb his slumber, but we need to see if keeping him away from sunlight is helping to regain his regenerative abilities."

Harry nodded. "Will do." Harry couldn't help but be amused at how Hermione had jumped into his case with Malfoy head first. She had given her notice to leave her research work at St. Mungo's for the duration of her pregnancy, but it seemed she couldn't just quit altogether. "He was a lot more coherent tonight than he was when we found him, but physically it's like nothing has started to heal."

"His body is still in shock, I'm sure. From the damage to his skin and the angle that sunlight had to have been coming into that cave, it had probably been at least two days since he'd been left there. His own natural healing may kick in anytime. If it doesn't, of course, we may have other issues to worry about. Only time will tell." Hermione paused and seemed to think a moment before continuing. "I'm proud of you, Harry, for treating him with respect while we've tried to get this mess worked out." Harry couldn't help but smile at the praise, even if it did cause him to roll his eyes a bit.

"It's not like we're school children anymore, Hermione," he said with a sigh. "I know we've all changed in the years since he's gone missing, and if what little he's told me is true…He's been held captive by that hive for close to a decade. There's no telling how he might have changed, even BEFORE he was turned. Speaking of which, has your research so far turned up anything else useful?"

Hermione sighed. "Nothing of any real value. Vampires are supposed to be able to heal themselves of almost anything if given enough rest away from sunlight, but of course you know that already. There aren't many records of vampires having survived such long-term exposure, though, most likely because those survivors aren't likely to have come into any significant contact with wizarding historians after going through such an ordeal. And I still am puzzled about those gashes on his legs. They appear to have been inflicted BEFORE he was turned, so they should have healed themselves with his transformation. Vampires usually find themselves in what we might describe as perfect physical condition from the moment they are turned."

Harry frowned. "I know at least that he still has feeling in his legs. I sort of…touched…his ankle earlier." Hermione raised an eyebrow at him and gave a small sigh. Harry immediately jumped on the defensive. "I promise, Hermione, I was just trying to comfort him. He had gotten all hysterical and I was trying to pull him back into reality. Seemed to work a bit too well though, as it seemed to remind him of the pain."

Hermione gazed up at Harry thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose that's a good sign at least. The nerves in his lower body haven't been destroyed if they can still send pain signals to his brain. Whether that means we'll be able to reconstruct his legs or not, I don't know." She paused a moment before continuing. "Harry, you ARE taking the proper precautions, right? I know Malfoy may have changed in the time since we were in school, and I know how you get when you encounter these hopeless causes, but please do remember you are sharing your home with a newly turned vampire. They are unstable even once mature, but the newly turned….well, they are a bit unpredictable."

Harry smiled indulgently into the floo. "Hermione, please give me a LITTLE credit here. I am a highly decorated auror with plenty of experience, especially the last several months, with dealing with vampires. Draco Malfoy never gave me much to fear at Hogwarts, and I highly doubt he'll do so now."

Hermione smiled back. "I know, I know, but someone has to spend time mothering you." She shot a playful smirk at her best friend. "And Merlin knows Ron isn't going to do it."

Harry gave a slight chuckle before preparing to close down the floo. "What would I ever do without you two, I just don't know."

"Be completely lost and alone, of course." She yawned. "Time for me to get a bit of rest. Impossible to learn ANYTHING on little sleep you know, and I want to have some more information for you by the time he wakes at sunset. Good night, or morning, Harry. Please floo if you need ANYTHING." And with that the flames fizzled out. Harry sat on the chair nearest the fireplace and stared out the window, where the sun had begun to rise. And though he should have been contemplating sleep, instead he found himself wondering. Was he really, as Hermione implied, lost and alone? Although at one time he might have brooded on the thought, Harry decided to luxuriously stretch his arms before heading for his own room, across from Malfoy's. With a severely injured, newly turned vampire living in the bedroom across from his, Harry had more things to worry about than a few ill-placed comments.


	3. Chapter 3 Voices

Author's Notes: Here it is! Chapter 3 up and running! Again, all mistakes are my fault as I am still currently unbeta'd. So sad for me. *pouts* If you see any glaring errors, be sure to let me know and I'll get them fixed ASAP! Oh, and if you have already read Chapter 2 you MIGHT want to go back and read the last little bit, as I made some dialogue changes. Nothing that completely changes the plot, just some information that my sleep-deprived brain forgot to put in last go round. Thanks again for all the reviews I've gotten so far! I hope you enjoy it! Next chapter may be a couple of weeks in coming as I am getting ready to make a major move and thus my writing time will be limited for a bit...Enjoy what you can in the meantime!

**Warnings: **For this chapter only, we have some of those promised torture scenes I mentioned before. I don't know if I have the stomach to write anything as gruesome as I like to read, but just for those of you who get squicked by certain things...Yeah, just FYI...Also, language is probably a little worse here than it was in previous chapters, but emotions are starting to get involved a bit, too, so there ya go...

**Chapter 3 – Voices**

It was an hour before sunset when Hermione and Ron both stepped through the floo of Harry's flat. After each had roughly dusted the soot from their robes, Harry reached out to hug both of his best friends, pleased for their company. Since Malfoy had been found, the Ministry had insisted that Harry stay within his home to "guard the prisoner." Harry had argued with Kingsley, telling him that Malfoy was "a potential eye-witness to the activities of DarkStar's hive – hardly a prisoner." He continued the argument to Kingsley that he was strictly interested in Malfoy's use as potentially helpful to his case, which seemed to keep the Minister from shoving Malfoy in an uncomfortable holding cell until he had healed up, if at all. The truth of the matter was that Harry simply couldn't stand to see someone in so much pain, and regardless of who Malfoy was, Harry felt it imperative that he ease his suffering as much as he could. To do so would be a crime against his own soul, if nothing else.

"Harry, you saw me not two nights ago," Ron said, his face flushing, though he returned the hug with gusto.

Hermione sighed but did not allow her own grip on Harry to slacken. "Yes, yes, I know. Having only the maimed but vampiric and thus still dangerous Draco Malfoy for company must certainly be driving Harry into incredible depths of loneliness."

Harry grinned at Hermione's tone and pulled away. "It's not like he's AWAKE most of the time he's here, and with you doing research and Ron keeping the Ministry off my back for having a former Death Eater chained to my bed, it's hard to keep myself sane and occupied."

Ron blushed. "Is it REALLY necessary to keep him chained to the bed, Harry? It gives me all sorts of thoughts that just DON'T belong in a man's head." He shivered slightly.

Harry smirked. "Get your head out of the damn gutter," he snickered as he gestured toward the living room sofa. He watched as Ron fussed and fretted into helping Hermione sit on the couch.

"For Merlin's sakes, Ronald. I'm only eight weeks pregnant. I PROMISE you I can still handle sitting down on my own at this point." Hermione still flushed under the attention and eventually acquiesced to her husband's demands.

"Oh, let him fuss," Harry called from his own seat in his worn but comfortable recliner. "It's a man's prerogative to pamper someone carrying his baby. Heck, when Ginny– " Harry's speech seemed to drop abruptly and his eyes quickly shot to the floor. He couldn't lift them to see the concern in the eyes of his best friends, so he abruptly changed the subject. "So, what information have you gotten for me? I'd love to get Malfoy healed up, get any information he's got filed away, and onto whatever is next in his undead life, so that I can get on with mine."

Hermione paused as if to try to re-direct the conversation onto previous topics, but seemed to think better of it and just sighed. She quickly dug into a robe pocket and withdrew a small bottle of what seemed to be some sort of cream. "Specially brewed vampiric regenerative potion. It ought to help the healing of his skin, although I don't know if it will do anything for his legs or not." She handed the bottle over to Harry, who stood looking at it.

"I just don't know how you do it, Hermione. Who do we know that could brew something so relatively unknown so quickly?" Hermione flushed and looked as if she might change the subject. Harry wouldn't let her. "You did it yourself, didn't you?" Her lowered eyes answered the question for him, and Ron quickly turned and grabbed his wife's hands in his own.

"Mione! You've got to stop pulling stuff like this! You know the mediwitch said you should be careful of doing any potions work now with the baby—"

Hermione cut Ron off before he could get any further. "Please, Ronald. I know very well what ingredients will and will not cause trouble for the baby, and I even had one of the mediwitches at St. Mungo's confirm it for me. I am PERFECTLY FINE!"

"So what should I do with this?" Harry asked finally, not wanting to interrupt the couple's bickering, which he found quite amusing, and a distraction from everything else.

"Like any other lotion-type potion. It just has to be rubbed on the affected areas, which should hopefully—"

"Hermione!" Harry interrupted. "You do realize his entire body…ENTIRE body, was affected by the sunlight. Who the hell is going to get close enough to him to give him the rub down? I have a desire not to lose my bits, thank you very much."

Hermione just smirked at him. "Oh, Harry love, I doubt you'll lose your bits, seeing as how the man is still CHAINED TO YOUR BED and WITHOUT A WAND." She gave an innocent grin. "Besides, seeing as how Ron would just as soon kill him as help him, and I certainly am not going near a vampire's fangs in my condition, that just leaves…you."

"I love you, Hermione," Harry said through his hands, which had come up to cover his face. "But I am likely to kill you, you realize this?" Hermione just giggled lightly.

"In any case, he'll be waking soon. Do you have that goblet ready?" Harry unceremoniously tossed the cup in her direction.

"Ron, slash your wrists," she said lightly before handing it to him.

Ron just blinked at the empty vessel. "Um, excuse me?"

Harry sighed and rolled her eyes in exasperation. "We can't have Harry giving ALL his blood to a newly turned vamp, now can we? He needs to save some of it, particularly if HE'S the one keeping YOUR rear end from having to guard it all the time."

"Fine, fine, fine, I get it." With his own eye-roll he quickly cut his wrists and filled the goblet. Hermione pressed her wand to the wound and healed it before Ron could do it himself, and both stood.

"Now, he ought to be waking up anytime. Let's go visit, shall we?" With that, the three strolled towards the bedroom, goblet in hand.

* * *

  
_Whoever said vampires couldn't dream had been sadly mistaken, _Draco's thoughts reeled as he struggled to swim his way again to consciousness. He had thought, erroneously it seems, that once DarkStar had given him the _honor_ of being turned, the nightmares would stop. Since now his body was not spending so much energy frantically trying to protect him from the sunlight, it seemed his mind could continue processing during the time he "slept."

That night, he had been blessed with memories of an evening not too long after he had been robbed of his parents, in one of the first of many nesting sites DarkStar and his minions had brought him.

_Draco had been scarred from his time during the war. Tragedy and the wrong choices seemed to follow him everywhere he went. But none of the fear, the terror he had felt as he ran and fought from day to day, trying desperately to keep his family intact, none of those feelings could shelter him or prepare him for what he felt now. Draco had, of course, felt the effects of the Cruciatus Curse as much as any other young Death Eater, but he had learned how to roll under the pain, to ride it out until it was over. At least, as crazy as most of the other Death Eaters could be, they were human._

_Now he was no longer dealing with humans. These creatures, several of whom were centuries old, seemed to have long forgotten any sense of humanity within them. Humans were neither to be pitied nor loved, hated nor despised. They simply were. Humans were food and playthings, but little more, not worthy of either scorn nor mercy. Somehow, the blank looks in the eyes of his captives as they watched him be toyed with was a hundred times worse than the crazed joy or contempt in the eyes of Death Eaters as they took their victims. No, at least to a Death Eater, he was a person, worthy of pain if nothing else. To the vampires, he was nothing._

_The first night had been the worst. He had awoken with his hands and feet bound to the corners of what appeared to be a large stone table. His body was aching, but whether from actual physical punishment or simply the strain of being confined to the table, he didn't know. His face had been pressed to the cold stone, and he shivered as he realized he was both wandless and completely nude._

"_Nice of you to join us, Little One," a deep baritone voice called from somewhere behind him. Draco turned his head to look in the direction of the voice, but its owner was clothed in shadow and in dark robes. Draco had not been a Slytherin for nothing. He decided it would be best to keep his mouth shut and hope further information would be forthcoming. He closed his eyes tightly as he felt a series of hands begin caressing up and over the backs of his thighs and calves. He hadn't even noticed the others in the room, but now he had no doubt that he was on display for anyone who managed to walk by. Maybe they'd even all convened to "welcome" him. Who knew? He realized at that point that survival chances for him were relatively slim, but decided to keep listening and waiting for an opening._

"_Such a pretty thing, and so responsive, too," the baritone continued as Draco began trembling under the light caresses of several sets of hands. The owner of the voice gave off a presence, not unlike that of the Dark Lord himself, so Draco knew he had not yet approached. "We may have to keep you for a while. If you are well-behaved, you live. Nod if you understand." Draco swallowed a whimper and nodded, his eyes still firmly closed. _

_Draco felt a wave of magic wash through what he assumed was an underground cavern, and immediately the surrounding beings stepped back and away from his legs. His trembling did not decrease, as the owner of the voice stepped closer, his footsteps echoing through the cavern. Draco felt a single finger, its nail somewhat sharp, begin tracing patterns down his spine. He had seen these kind of mind games being played on the Muggles the Death Eaters had often capture, so he ignored the feelings of disgust and fear and focused simply on breathing. In and out, in and out. His heart was beginning to race faster and faster, and still he tensed and waited as that nail continued working its way down its spine to points lower. He felt it dip, just slightly, into the crevasse of his arse before returning and continuing down his left leg. When it had reached a trembling foot, the owner stopped, lifting his finger. Its absence unnerved Draco more than its presence had.  
_

_In that moment, a burst of pain flared from the top of his right thigh, and Draco ground his teeth as he tried desperately to suppress a scream as he felt that sharpened nail rip a line through the skin and muscle of his thigh._

"_Oh, Pretty One, you needn't suppress your screams from me. I rather enjoy them. Such melodic sounds you humans make while in pain. Someone really ought to save them, compose some of those Muggle symphonies out of them. So exquisite, so beautiful." With that, the finger lifted, and Draco felt a brief relief from the agony, though he could feel the skin and muscle split open and his blood running quickly down his leg. 'Maybe if I bleed enough I'll pass out,' he thought with a somewhat desperate hope._

_No such luck, however. "Tsk tsk tsk…Now we can't allow this. I intend to enjoy you for a while yet. With that the creature kneeled next to the stone table, gently allowing his tongue to lap up and down the cut, and then dipping almost reverently into the torn tissues of his thigh. Draco DID scream at that point, before he heard a whispered incantation, which seemed to halt the bleeding and cause a quick fire to burn through the wound. Draco realized it had been cauterized. 'I suppose I really didn't NEED to be able to use that leg,' he thought with a good bit of hysteria rising into his thoughts._

_A brief reprieve followed before Draco felt that nail plunge again into the top of his left thigh, and the voice continued muttering what he MUST consider sweet nothings to Draco as he repeated the process. Minutes, or hours later, Draco knew he had no less than eight long, deep, and cauterized cuts lining the back of both thighs and calves. He desperately hoped that he would be allowed to go into unconsciousness, and thought for a moment he might be allowed the blessing. It was not to be. Wonderful._

"_Oh, Lovely, it's not quite time for you to sleep, not just yet. We all have hunger that must be fed." The voice paused momentarily. "Open your eyes, Mr. Malfoy." Draco found himself incapable of disobeying, his eyes opening and flaring into the face of the Monster he'd been subject to all evening. The dark onyx eyes seemed to glow with an otherworldly power. There was no hatred, no contempt, nothing but the power, reaching in and caressing Draco's mind into unwilling submission. "I am a man of my word, Mr. Malfoy. So long as you obey, you will live. Do you understand?" Draco nodded, almost unconscious of doing so. The Monster seemed to smile then, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "You may close your eyes again, Mr. Malfoy." _

_Draco gratefully allowed his eyes to be drawn into blackness again, though he was sure the peace would not last for long…_

"Malfoy…Wake up. Malfoy…DRACO! Open your eyes, damn it! _Ennervate!" _Draco felt a wave of magic washing over him, which was followed almost immediately by the return of the hunger burning in his gut. His eyes quickly washed over the room and landed immediately on a pair of emerald eyes. He could feel the pulse rushing under that skin and practically leapt to the end of the chains as it he had the night before, and he vaguely registered the skittish jumps from two other beings off to the side. The emerald eyes held his without flinching, and soon he saw a goblet levitating slightly in front of him.

"Drink," the emerald eyes commanded, and he grasped the cup to lift it to his lips, awaiting that merlot-flavored warmth to trickle down his parched throat. However, something was wrong. The liquid was far too sweet, tasting faintly of rotted berries rather than fine wine, and as it began to flow through his throat he felt all his veins and stomach explode as if on fire. Without thought he flung the goblet to the side of the room where it shattered, the liquid staining the cream of the walls, before his body flew into convulsions.

_Something is wrong_, the small sane portion of his mind whispered. _You've been poisoned, that has to be it. Finally you'll be free_. As his bodies convulsed helplessly, he vaguely registered other voices in the room.

"What the fuck was that?" he heard a thickly accented tenor echo loudly through the room. "I thought you said the feeding was going fine!"

"It was!" a familiar bass echoed back. "I don't have any clue! Hermione, what's wrong with him?"

_Ah, _Draco thought, _so the mudblood must have done it! Not that I can blame her…_

"I am not entirely sure," the sweet alto rang through the air, though it sounded slightly shaken. "Harry, _Reparo_ the goblet. Let's try yours again."

A whispered incantation or two, and moments later Draco felt those emeralds staring back into his own. Though his body continued to thrash beneath him, his eyes returned the stare and waited for its command. "Try this one," it said before cautiously, ever so cautiously pressing the goblet to his lips. As soon as the familiar liquid touched his tongue he felt his body began to calm and his mind begin to return to reality. The familiar feeling of satisfaction coursed through his body, and after a few more moments of heavy breathing his voice returned.

"Potter," he sneered while continuing to glare into the emerald eyes, "What the _fuck_ was that? What are you trying to do, _poison_ me?"

"What the hell, Malfoy?" Potter screamed back. "We were just trying to use someone else's blood so you don't leave me bloody EMPTY, you prat! Although I suppose we might have expected your reaction to a Weasley's blood."

"The WEASEL is trying to give me his blood? Oh Potter, you should certainly know better. His would be simply _beneath_ me. No wonder my body rejected it." Draco smirked and moved to cross his arms, although shortly thereafter he could feel the return of the sandpaper on his skin from the night before and decided better of it, gingerly lying himself back on the duvet instead.

"Oh yeah?" Harry countered. "I can't imagine why you seem to be so ENAMORED with the life-force of a half-blood over a pure-blood, regardless of who it belonged to."

"Whatever, Potter," Draco choked out, all his will to fight drained by the pain returning to his aching body. He shifted slightly on the bed, trying to gain a better position, but none ever came.

Potter sighed from the side of the bed, turning his attention back to Granger. "Hermione, why do you think that is? I should think that one source of blood should be no different than the other, especially since it's not like Malfoy's a WIZARD anymore anyway."

The last comment hurt Draco more than he could stand to think about at the moment, so instead he simply closed his eyes and willed himself to roll under the pain for the time being, hoping that answers would be forthcoming.

"I don't rightly know, Harry," Granger answered from across the room. "Yet another thing to add to the list of research topics. I promise, this case just gets more and more curious. I suppose it serves to reason that Draco Malfoy couldn't manage to even be a normal vampire."

Draco couldn't help but smirk slightly at the comment. "Malfoys don't DO normal, Granger."

"A little hard to make that statement when you're the only one left, isn't it Malfoy?" Draco could almost FEEL the heat and anger radiating off the redhead at that moment and chose to keep quiet rather than exacerbate it. His skin already felt like it was on fire. No need to add to it.

"RON!" A duet of voices seemed to fly towards Weasley. "That was COMPLETELY uncalled for," Granger added. A hush settled over the room, and Draco could feel the three humans in the room shifting slightly on their feet. Draco felt slightly placated.

"We can discuss what is or isn't called for later," Draco finally allowed himself to drawl from the bed. "For now, why don't you tell me why the FUCK you thought it would be a good idea for me to be shackled to Potter's bed and drinking what I have gathered is his blood rather than leaving me to the Ministry?"

Potter snorted. "Kingsley's friend or not, the Ministry itself is cracked. I see no reason to leave a potential informant in their custody when they can do no better a job of healing you than I can, and quite possibly throw you in Azkaban when I NEED the information you have."

Draco started just a bit before schooling a mask over his confusion. "What information could I possibly have that you want? And just how did you find me in the first place?"

"DarkStar," Weasley chimed in. "We had planned a raid on the hive's nesting site the night we found you, but the hive had moved on. Left a whole trail of bodies throughout the cavern, although I don't get why YOU were left behind. I thought vampire hives were supposed to be loyal to their sire and all that shit. Why would they leave you alone? Too much of a prat for them were you?"

The heat rolled over Draco's skin again, and he couldn't help a pained whimper from escaping.

"Ronald, go back to the living room," Granger said. "You're all heated and upset and the magic is making Malfoy's problems worse than they are. I've got Harry to guard me here and we have work to do. I'll be there to follow you home in a couple of minutes." Weasley seemed to want to protest, but a glare from Granger shut him up and sent him on his way. Draco felt both relief at his absence (and the absence of the heat) and amusement that Granger DEFINITELY ruled that relationship.

"Malfoy, let's make this simple," Potter seemed to take up the reigns of the conversation once more. "I need information, you need healing. I heal you, you tell me everything you know, and then you scamper on your merry way to wherever the hell it is you want to go. Sound acceptable to you, _sir?_"

Draco's eyes clenched more tightly shut as pain continued to shoot up his skin through its contact with the duvet below. "Yes, just…fuck…just…whatever you can do to make it stop hurting so damn much at the moment…I'll tell you whatever I can, though it probably isn't much, if you'll just make it stop." He thought he felt the salt of a tear roll down his cheek, briefly burning the cracked skin underneath on its trip down.

He heard Granger gasped as he felt her twitching uncomfortably across the room. "Right then," she finally said, breaking the silence. "Let's get this potion worked into your front, then we can see about turning you over and checking those legs." Draco, somewhat incoherent from the pain at this point, simply nodded his assent.

He felt Potter shift and sit gingerly on the bed before he felt a whispered incantation remove the shackles at his feet. Then, he felt his skin catch fire as two calloused hands began delicately, almost reverently, rubbing a soothing balm into the skin at his feet. As the hands worked their way up his left leg, he felt the fire of the initial touch melt into a tingling, then a numbness in the limb. For the first time since he left the cave, his nerve endings were not on fire, and that alone warranted a pained sigh.

Potter's breath seemed to catch momentarily from the sigh, his hands stilling. Draco took a chance. "Please, don't stop," he whispered, though he felt his pride crumbling with the plea. Potter took a deep breath before continuing up to his torso, then down the other leg to the foot. His body shifted again, and he was sitting at the head of the bed.

"Open your eyes, Malfoy," Potter's voice drawled from near his right ear. Startled by the familiarity of the phrase, his eyes shot open and met immediately with Potter's. "I am going to release the shackles temporarily so we can get your arms treated and then roll you over, but I'm going to have to replace them after. Okay?" Keeping his eyes locked on Potter's, Draco simply nodded before Potter whispered the incantation to release the chains. He continued messaging the potion up each arm and hand, before gently brushing his hands across Draco's face and neck. They seemed to linger just a moment over Draco's lips, and Draco briefly felt the flutter of a pulse. Surprisingly, Draco did not feel hunger in that moment, only sublime peace in the knowledge that that lifeforce, or at least a portion of it, was running through his system. _And what an odd thing to think,_ Draco managed to think through the haze of welcomed numbness that was settling throughout his limbs.

"Malfoy, it's time for us to turn you over," he heard Granger call from a distance across the room. She seemed to have no interest in approaching the bed itself, just supervising carefully from the doorframe. That suited Draco just fine. He heard her quickly cast a _mobilicorpus_ before he found himself hovering just inches off the bed. Potter very gently, as if afraid of damaging the still fragile skin beneath his fingers, managed to turn Draco onto his stomach. Draco then felt the spell gently being lifted as he floated back to the duvet below him. He quickly felt the shackles being replaced at his wrists and ankles, but could not care less as the burning scraping of the skin on his backside had been relieved.

Potter then continued his ministrations, gently applying the potion down his back, but when Potter's hands reached from his lower back to the curve of his arse, Draco felt himself tense his otherwise languid muscles unintentionally. Potter seemed to feel his tension and so called to Draco again. "Malfoy, I am not going to hurt you, do you understand? We are just going to try to get your skin better and see if this potion will help with those cuts down your legs as well. Is that alright?"

Draco took a few stuttering breaths before nodding quickly. Potter's hands continued gently down his arse and each leg before finally resting near the closest cut. Draco could FEEL him peering at it intently.

"Mione, what do you think?" Potter called across the room. "He's shackled again, so I'm sure it's safe to come look." Granger—_I wonder if it's Weasley now, _he thought—moved carefully towards the bed and seemed to peer at the wound intensely.

"Well, I just really don't know, Harry. His skin already seems to be looking a little healthier, if still dry and cracked. Are you feeling any relief, Malfoy?"

"Mm-hmm," his boneless voice felt muffled by the soft pillow under his head. Though he had not done much other than sleep and lie in this bed over the past couple of days, it was as if the relief settling into his body made him more tired than ever.

"Good, at least that's one problem taken care of." He could hear her pause as if in thought. "It still bothers me that we can't get those legs to heal though, even with the regenerative potion. Malfoy, do you think you could answer a few questions for us at the moment? Or would you rather get some rest?"

Draco thought for a moment before lifting his head and turning it to face the two humans. "I could rest for the next two centuries and still feel tired after everything I've been through, but I'd much rather work on trying to get myself back to some semblance of normal. If that requires my talking to you, so be it." Hermione nodded at him.

"Can you tell us how old these wounds are? And how they were inflicted? That might help us figure out how to heal them." Draco's body began giving away a faint amount of trembling which he promptly tried to conceal through a few deep breaths.

"I can tell you that, if Potter's been telling me the truth, the wounds themselves are probably close to eight years old." Granger gasped at his statement, but he ignored her and continued. "They were part of the 'initiation' for those of us who were kept around as…toys." His voice faltered more than he had wanted it to, but he pressed forward. "The first time I awoke after I was taken from the manor…That's when…he did it. As far as details…" Draco took a deep breath before continuing. "Look…I just…I don't think I can talk about it. Use legilimency if you have to, but I don't think I can give you that information without completely losing my pride." Granger frowned, but Potter just nodded in something akin to understanding and knelt on the floor next to the head of the bed. Gray eyes met green briefly before a wand was pointing towards Draco's head.

"_Legilimens,"_ the command was issued, and Draco quickly built his occlumency shields around every memory he wanted protected except for the one of that first night, then one he'd had nightmares about the night before. Once Potter had viewed the memory, he pulled out of Draco's mind in an almost gentle manner, although the pounding headache that always accompanied mind invasion began almost the second the connection was broken.

"I'm sorry I couldn't be more gentle, Malfoy, but I am by no means a master legilimens." Draco, in an attempt to cover up the returning pain of his headache, looked towards Potter and gave a small smirk. Potter looked almost green, but Draco supposed that was just from Potter's inept attempts at reading his mind.

"No offense, Potter, but I had that figured out already." Potter gave a half-scowl, but it seemed without heat, so Draco let it go. "In any case, I really don't think I can handle being awake much longer, so if you don't mind…" He abruptly turned his head away from Potter's emerald green eyes and closed his own, willing the darkness to take him again.

Draco heard the retreating footsteps and whispers heading towards the doorway, but he was quickly losing himself to the darkness and felt something akin to relief for the first time in years. "Thank you, Harry," he whispered almost to himself before dropping off into what he hoped would not be nightmares.

* * *

  
As soon as Malfoy had returned to slumber – if you could even call what a vampire did while unconscious sleeping – Harry quickly saw both Ron and Hermione out with various promises to contact them with the information he had gathered so that both could continue working on their respective cases. Hermione had been particularly annoyed that Harry had insisted on owling her later with the details, but one look at the determined—and slightly sick—look in his eyes, and Hermione had dropped the subject.

The truth is, Harry needed time to process what Malfoy had just shown him before he could share the details with anyone else. He should be ecstatic to finally have at least SOME clue as to what DarkStar looked like – he was mostly cloaked in the vision, although Malfoy had seen those terribly dead eyes and some facial features – but what he had done…It was inhuman to be sure, but the sense of terror pervading the memory was far worse. Harry, like Malfoy, had seen his share of atrocities, both in the war and in his work, but to feel so completely…insignificant…even to those torturing you. Such a thing did more than damage the mind or body. It damaged the SOUL.

What's more is that Harry KNEW he hadn't seen the whole memory. Something told him that Malfoy had not lost consciousness at that point, and that there was more to come. Granted, Malfoy was still a bit of an arrogant git, and had been a Death Eater during the war, but no one deserved that sort of bodily violation. Harry shivered before wrapping his arms around himself. Harry's eyes looked out the window towards the approaching dawn as he dropped into his favorite recliner with a cup of coffee in his hands. He would rest for a few hours at least before owling what he'd discovered to Hermione.

Harry was shaken, to be sure, but he was also determined. He knew now that Draco had at least SOME memories, locked carefully behind his occlumency shields, that would be beneficial, even if it was just a clear look at DarkStar and some of the other vamps in his hive. He knew that Hermione, as intelligent as she was, would find a way to heal Malfoy's wounds. Maybe she would even discover why it was that Malfoy responded so differently to different types of blood.

In any case, Harry continued to wonder to himself – because he had become nothing short of honest with himself in the past few years – when he had gotten to be so sympathetic with the likes of Draco Malfoy? Maybe because he hated seeing a fellow person – for Harry still believed him to be a person, even if he wasn't human – suffer. Maybe because he had felt a sort of sympathy for Malfoy that entire last year of the war as he watched him through his connection with Voldemort. Maybe because, even once the wizarding world had stopped looking for him, something had still felt WRONG about a world without Harry's "nemesis" in it. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because he'd finally heard Malfoy call him "Harry."

* * *

Remember, Reviews = love... :)


	4. Chapter 4 Changing of the Guard

**A/N:** Thanks again to the people who have reviewed so far! It's really inspiring to know that others are enjoying your work, and really encourages me to keep writing. I am hoping the reviews keep coming so I will be able to motivate myself to keep going! I am actually going to be spending the next several days packing and moving, and then probably several after that getting myself adjusted to going back to school again, so it may be a little while before I get the next chapter up. Therefore, I present you with something to tide you over a little while until I can get more written.

**Warnings:** There is implication of rape in this chapter, but nothing terribly graphic, just for those who might get squick'd by that kind of thing. Also a reminder that this is un-beta'd. No one has said they might like the job yet, so I will keep posting my own work and fixing errors as I find them. In the meantime, just enjoy what we have! Have a great weekend, all!

**Chapter 4 – Changing of the Guard**

_As if through a haze, Harry looked around the seemingly empty cavern. Darkness flooded the area like a storm of black ink, yet Harry could make out every detail of every stone, of every stalactite, of the flattened stone altar, for that is what it must have been lying in the center of the room. Then, as if awakening from distant memories, the cavern flooded with the presence of beings, personal features hidden by a ghostlike countenance._

_The only solid being remained bound face down on the altar, the pale skin smooth but bruised here and there, baring the red chafe marks at ankles and wrists from being bound far too long. The head lifted and the grey eyes opened and bore into green for just a moment before closing tightly and burying themselves underneath the body._

_Harry looked down at his hands, his normally dirty and shortly bitten nails long and sharp as if pointed into claws. "You must be purified," he said to the being bound below him in a voice he didn't even recognize. And with that, he began digging his nails into the expanse of pale skin, hearing the pain-filled shrieks fill the cavern as the scene began to vanish._

Harry found himself startled awake by the chime on the floo. He glanced towards the fireplace from where he had crumpled close to down on his living room sofa to see Ron's face poking through the ashes.

"Holy fuck," Harry whispered under his breath as dream-induced shivers jerked him up from his pained position and allowed him to rise to answer Ron's call.

"Harry?" the redhead called through the flames, "I need to talk to you for a minute. Can I come through?"

"Sure, Ron," Harry answered in a voice shakier than he would like. "Come on through."

A moment later and Ron had stepped through the floo, brushing the soot off of his robes before greeting his friend in a hardy handshake.

"Wow, mate, you look like shit." Harry frowned at his best friend as he began uselessly threading his fingers through his sleep-ruffled hair.

"Thanks, Ron, that's so nice coming from you." Harry practically growled. Ron just shrugged and flopped gracelessly into an arm chair.

"You know I tell nothing but the truth. That old Gryffindor honesty and all that rot." The redhead eyed his friend cautiously before continuing. "Are you sleeping at all on that old sofa? I still don't know why you gave the ferret your bed in the first place."

"Let's not start on this today, Ron," Harry said with exasperation before pressing the tips of his fingers into his eyes behind his glasses. "He's recovering, in a good deal of pain, kept shackled down both for our safety and his, and the poor guy has no family to turn to. Tell me, Ron, if it weren't for our history, would YOU have made him sleep on the couch?"

Ron just scrunched his face up in a mock-pout but eventually relented with a sigh. "I suppose not, Harry, but I still don't see why it's YOUR responsibility to take care of him now."

Harry just shrugged. "We need the information he can give us, and I have the ability to take care of him. That's all."

Harry missed the slight raise of eyebrow from his best friend as he mumbled. "So long as that's all…" Ron shook his head as if to clear his mind of unpleasant thoughts before continuing. "Anyway, I know you probably haven't been asleep but for five or six hours, if that long, but I actually did have a reason in stepping by. Kingsley wants to see you, and he's not willing to step foot in your flat so long as a fledgling vampire is still around. He sent me to take up your guard post so you could go have a word with him. He seemed pretty ticked off when I left, so if I were you I'd get showered and dressed quickly before heading towards the Ministry."

Harry sighed and began to pull himself back off of the sofa. "Any idea what it's about? I would assume it has something to do with the DarkStar case, but you never know with Kingsley."

Ron just shrugged nonchalantly. "I think it's probably a safe assumption. I haven't heard anything new since this morning, but you never know with him. He did sound furious there for a moment though, so I suppose you might wanna make it a quicker shower than usual."

Harry shrugged equally nonchalantly and cast a few cleaning and de-wrinkling charms over himself and his clothes. "Good enough?" Ron eyed him with an amused expression but said nothing. Harry caught himself in a half-smirk before he could stop himself. "And you're sure you'll be okay here with Malfoy?"

Ron raised a hand as if to stave off the barrage of questions that were bound to be heading his way. "I promise. I know how much we need his information, regardless of how I feel about him personally, so I shall refrain from being anymore of a bastard than is absolutely necessary." Ron gave a small smirk himself. "I am, after all, a GOOD auror, contrary to whatever the ferret may believe."

Harry broke into a tired grin. "That you are, Ron. Just be careful. I'll try to make it back before sundown, but depending on Kingsley's mood…" he trailed off. "You sure you'll be able to manage him if he wakes up hungry."

Ron shrugged. "You placed the wards and shackles on him yourself, Harry. I highly doubt anything he can do will get through that. Besides, maybe it'll be a good opportunity for him to practice acting vaguely human while hungry."

Harry snorted. "As if you're so good at that yourself, Ron." The redhead just blushed and waved him off impatiently.

"Would you just get out of here before Kingsley decides to send more aurors after you? I promise I'll be fine." As if to prove the point, he pulled the latest copy of _Quidditch Weekly_ out of his messenger bag and flipping through it with a bored look.

Harry sighed. "Fine, Ron." Harry briefly paused, summoning a quill and parchment to shoot a note off to Hermione. When Ron eyed him curiously, Harry gave a brief explanation. "So Hermione knows what we're working towards with Malfoy's legs. Since you saw it appropriate to wake me up so bloody early, I figure the least I could do is get the information to her. Maybe she'll have some answers by the time I get back. I'll be home in a couple of hours." Harry quickly summoned an owl to send off the information before tossing a handful of powder into the floo and vanishing towards the Ministry.

* * *

Hermione sat primly at the table in her home office, sipping her homemade café au lait and fingering through the latest tome she had acquired through her connections at Hogwarts. _Dark Creatures through the Ages_ had proved even less interesting than the last six books she'd gone through looking for a solution to Malfoy's dilemma, so at the end of chapter seven she took a brief glance around the office. They had only known about the pregnancy for close to a week, and Ron was already going to town moving all of their work things out of the room to make way for the new nursery. She smiled happily at that thought before plunging back into the text again.

Chapter 8 was titled "Vampiric Races and Their Abilities," and as she began to read she became increasingly excited. _Jackpot_, she thought happily as she pulled out a quill and parchment and began to take the notes she would need. She had scarcely put ink to paper before an owl flew into the office and shoved a leg in her direction. She took the parchment from the owl, offering it a taste of biscotti before it flew out the window again.

_So Harry FINALLY got me the details of Malfoy's injury,_ she thought, even her inner voice holding a tone of fond exasperation. She had hardly slept at all the night before as she contemplated in what ways she could begin her latest round of research. It seemed her pregnancy couldn't have come at a better time. It kept her home from St. Mungo's, that was true, but it also gave her plenty of time to help research this case with Ron and Harry again. The Golden Trio, back together. She sighed as she read.

It was true that sense Ginny's death the Trio just hadn't spent any considerable amount of time together. Yes, Harry and Ron spent time together at work, Hermione and Ron spent…well…lots…LOTS of "couple time" together, and Hermione even managed to drag Harry out for coffee every once in a blue moon. But it seemed like an eternity had passed since the last time the three of them had any real project to work on together. It made her considerably happier than she could have been, especially considering she was still stuck dealing with Draco Malfoy. TREATING him, even.

Since having become the third member of the Golden Trio, Hermione no longer struggled with the self-esteem or self-worth issues that had flooded her in her earliest months at Hogwarts. She had become a self-sufficient brilliant young witch, and was unafraid to let people know that she had. However, Draco Malfoy had insulted her and her heritage far more times than she cared to remember. The way his lips had formed every time he said the word "mudblood" still burned in her memory on a regular basis.

Hermione amused herself with the knowledge that she WOULD see Malfoy cured, if for no other reason than to hold it over his head later. Hermione was not, by nature, a vindictive person. She wouldn't gloat over her victory, no, but SHE would know just what he owed her, and that was enough.

With that thought fueling her determination, she resumed her search through the text, knowing exactly what it is now she was looking for.

* * *

To say Kingsley was angry would be an understatement. The man looked purple, and Harry honestly momentarily feared for his life, if not his job. He shrank immediately into the Minister's office and grabbed the chair furthest away from the desk.

"Um, Minister?" Harry asked hesitantly, knowing that at the moment formality was more important than friendliness.

Kingsley seemed to notice Harry's nervousness and took a few calming breaths before continuing. "Auror Potter," he greeted plainly, reaching his hand out to shake Harry's heartily. Harry did not miss the unusual strength with which his hand was gripped, almost painful in its intensity.

"Auror Weasley said you sent for me?" Harry decided that jumping to the point would be the fastest way to get out of the Minister's office and thus his warpath.

"Yes, I did," Kingsley said, taking another calming breath before continuing. "Harry," he said, dropping the formality and lowering his head accordingly, "I'm really not sure how to say this, and I shouldn't be telling you at all except that I know you have some political clout that I do not." Harry rolled his eyes, but the Minister quickly put up a hand to stop him from responding. "Whether you like it or not, you do, Harry, and this is a problem that frankly, I'm not sure I can fix."

"There was an attack this morning, in broad daylight, in Hogsmeade." Harry simply got wide-eyed at the statement.

"But…the vamps…Well, they are allergic to sunlight, yes? So this has to be someone new?" Harry eyed the Minister with confusion.

"I suppose it COULD be, Harry, except for one thing." He stood and pointed briefly to the back of his legs. "Two of the victims had the same kind of mutilation done to the back of their calves and thighs as all the victims from DarkStar's nest that we found earlier this week." He sighed as Harry continued to stare wide-eyed in shock. "We're keeping this all as hush-hush as possible, Auror Potter, as the last thing we need is a riot and people withdrawing their students from Hogwarts out of fear. However, the Wizengamot has been informed and…well…hell, Harry….they're trying to pass an open hunting season on vampires this afternoon."

Harry continued to stare in shock for a few moments before all of Kingsley's words were able to penetrate into his brain. "W-what?" he stammered, all the liquid in his mouth suddenly turning to dust. "A…h-hunting season?" Harry's face began to take on the shade of Kingsley's. "As in…'Hello, Mr. Vampire. We know you haven't done anything illegal but we're going to kill you anyway?' THAT kind of hunting season??" Harry's voice seemed to raise exponentially the further into his tirade he continued.

Harry abruptly stood and started pacing back and forth in front of the Minister's desk. "This is complete and utter BULLSHIT!" he screamed. "Because of ONE rogue hive, we are all of a sudden going to basically commit GENOCIDE on a group of creatures who, for the most part, didn't even ASK to be turned? It's the werewolf fiasco all over again!"

Kingsley stood and gripped Harry's shoulders, slowing the younger man down before he was able to really hit his stride. "I realize this Harry. I knew you'd be upset, and I knew even that, somewhere in that head of yours, you would say that this is no different from what Voldemort was trying to do with muggleborns and half-bloods all those years ago." Harry stared into Kingsley's face, again surprised at how well the other man knew him. "I also realize that the Wizengamot is INCREDIBLY frightened at the prospect of said rogue vampires running about IN BROAD DAYLIGHT attacking innocent people. I don't know if there is a solution we can come to immediately, Harry, but I know that if anyone can figure out a solution to this it's you. In the meantime," Kingsley said, gesturing to the clock on the wall which read just past three in the afternoon, "you have three hours to prepare a case for voting down the hunting season before the Wizengamot."

Harry's face paled. "Kingsley, you KNOW I hate speaking in front of those people! I barely managed it right after the war and I haven't really gotten any better at it since then. Why can't YOU do it?"

Kingsley only smiled sadly. "Because, Harry," he said frankly, "you still have the political power needed to make people listen, whether you want it or not."

Harry, of course, gave a resigned sigh. "You're right, Minister." He glanced back up at the clock. "Three hours, huh? I suppose I try to get Hermione up here, then. There's no way I can prepare something that quickly without her."

* * *

The nightmares had come again. As Draco fought his way back into the land of the living – so to speak – his mind reeled with the images that had been barraging him from almost the moment he'd fallen asleep.

"_Ah, my lovely one," the dark baritone called from behind him. Draco cowered beneath him, his nude body cold and shivering and shocks of pain shooting up his back from his mangled legs._

_The voice placed a cold hand on Draco's trembling back in what mocked a loving caress. "Oh, now now there…This won't hurt…This time at least…You see, Mr. Malfoy, my bloodline is much like yours…Very pure, very ancient…And we have certain…skills…with which I am sure you will be most impressed." _

_Draco said nothing but continued to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid looking into the face of his tormentor. The cold hand slid up his spin, dancing lightly on the nape of his neck before burying in his hair and tugging his head up. "Open your eyes, Poppet," the voice crooned. Draco felt no choice but to comply, and he soon found himself staring fearfully into those onyx eyes once again. "You WILL enjoy this," the voice continued. Draco felt strands of magic flowing into his consciousness, gently stroking on the pleasure centers of his brain, and, despite his conscious opposition, he felt his body responding to the silky voice. "I will bring you to the heights of pleasure," the voice continued, "so that, in the future, you will know the true depth of pain." _

_Draco longed to stiffen in fear, to pull at his bonds until they gave and run as far away as possible. Instead his body responded to every touch, every soft caress, and as he felt himself being entered for the first time, keening all the while, he began to understand what it felt like to be broken…_

Draco finally felt himself pulling up from the last strains of unconsciousness, and, had he the ability to move, he would have promptly emptied anything left in his undead stomach. The feeling of sheer violation he felt in the aftermath of that dream was more than he could have ever imagined. The bodily violations Draco could handle. The memory was not of the final time he'd been used, by any number of vamps, during his eight years of "service." He had long learned how to retreat within the depths of his mind, keeping his emotions locked down, allowing his body to be used only because he KNEW it would allow him to survive. What might have shamed him about those events no longer held any strength to him, as he KNEW he was alive now because of his compliance.

No, what Draco felt disgust for now was the way that voice had wound into his subconscious, forcing him not only to comply with the will of the master vampire, but to _enjoy_ it. To imagine that _he_ was the one who invited the violation. He had never orgasmed so hard in his life as he had that first night with the master, and then, as now, the thought made him sick. To submit to that kind of violation was absolutely unacceptable, and he would do well to forget it entirely.

The thoughts soon abandoned him, however, as the burning in his stomach and veins returned, urging him to feed, to seek out the sweet taste of merlot and allow his undying thirst to be quenched. He knew he smelt blood in the house, but it was somehow unfamiliar and pungent. He raised his head and allowed his senses to spread throughout the house. Within minutes he heard heavy footsteps walking down the hall and approaching the bedroom. He inhaled deeply to sense the life in the human's blood, which was now more familiar, but it still wasn't right. It wasn't Potter's. It wasn't _his…_ Draco had no idea _why_ he would think that, but just as he knew he was still a Malfoy, he knew that that blood, that life force, was not right. It would not satisfy.

"Ah, so the ferret is awake, lovely," said the redhead as it walked through the door, its voice full of sarcasm and slight bitterness. "Not to worry, my undead friend, Harry will be along quite shortly. He had more _important_ business with the minister." The redhead stopped to allow Draco time to respond, but as he did nothing, the redhead opted to sit in an armchair next to the bedroom door and return to reading over what must be some plebian newspaper.

Draco still knew that something just wasn't _right_. He had no problem with the strange redhead being in the room. The issue was that Draco was terribly terribly _thirsty,_ and _Harry wasn't there!_ Did the silly mortal not have a clue? He belonged to _Draco_, and there was absolutely no excuse for him to be visiting that silly Minister when he should be here indulging Draco's every whim.

Draco no longer knew exactly what he was going to do, but he knew what he _had_ to do. He had to find his Harry, before the burning in his stomach consumed him, leaving nothing but an ashen shell. He struggled weakly with the bonds holding his ankles and wrists, which seemed to be as strong as ever, even if Draco felt a measure of his own strength returning, before turning to face the redhead once again.

"Weasley," Draco said in a low sultry voice, demanding with his mind that the redhead just look at him, for just a moment. When the redhead lifted his head in curiosity, blue eyes met grey, and Draco sprung. He guided his magic through heretofore unexplored pathways, placing caresses as gentle as a lover's touch along the redhead's mind.

"Come to me," Draco ordered, still in that low husky tone. The redhead blinked once, twice, before rising from the chair and walking shakily towards the head of the bed where the thirsty vampire stood. The redhead lowered his head until it was inches from Draco's face. "Remove these restraints, fair one, that I might show you the meaning of pleasure." Somewhere in the back of Draco's mind he noticed the slight bulge growing in the redhead's pants, and although he CERTAINLY had no intentions of doing anything about it, it made him feel smug all the same. He smirked knowingly as the redhead lifted his wand and used a complicated series of incantations to cause the shackles to shimmer before disappearing into nothingness.

"Now, help me to sit up, my pet." The redhead continued, his blue eyes never leaving grey, lifting the vampire's legs and placing them so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Before Draco had even a moment to decide what command to issue next, he heard the distinct chime of a floo activating somewhere in the house, followed by the rush of merlot and the sound of a steady heartbeat. His magic and senses quickly sought out the source of the incredible sweetness and subtly pulled it closer to where he now sat. "Sleep," he ordered the redhead, who promptly fell onto the soft duvet in a deep slumber. Draco smirked. Now all he had to do was sit and wait.

* * *

Harry was highly annoyed and even downright angry as he stepped ahead of Hermione into the floo. No sooner had she followed behind him as he felt something very off in the house. There was a sense of magic tugging him, as if willing him to follow it directly into the bedroom where a certain awake – and surely thirsty – vampire was waiting. Harry quickly grabbed Hermione's shoulder.

"Hermione, something is definitely wrong here. I am not sure what it is, but promise me you'll stay back as we go into my bedroom." Hermione simply huffed and gave him that look that he knew meant she would follow him anywhere. He sighed in exasperation. "Fine, fine, but at least stay back and give me time to figure out what the situation is before you come charging in after me, okay?"

Hermione just clucked her tongue at him. "I am sure Ron is fine, Harry. I don't feel anything out of the ordinary, and you have just got to learn how to delegate. I am sure everything is well under control, and your being out of your house for one afternoon is not going to destroy anything. Now come, let's go see our star witness. I'd rather give him the good news now so we can deal with the bad news later." Harry nodded, and the two began to step towards the bedroom.

The closer to the bedroom the two walked, the more out of sorts Harry felt. It was as if the magic was reaching into is very soul, trying to give him a sense of peace and well-being. Harry's conscious mind, of course, understood what that meant and began to feel the exact opposite. Harry had heard no voices since approaching the bedroom, and he highly doubted that Ron and Malfoy could stay away from each other's throats (metaphorically speaking) to keep the peace for that long.

Harry's heart leapt in his throat as he stepped through the doorway. There on the bed lay Ron, seemingly knocked out but looking otherwise undamaged, with Malfoy sitting, unbound, at the edge of his bed. Harry had only a moment before green eyes locked into grey, and all seemed to be lost. He found himself drowning in the silvery pools, reading lust, hunger, and desire in the dilated pupils.

The magic he had felt earlier firmly invaded his mind, passing all his Occlumency shields and coiling around his pleasure center, causing him to purr with some imagined fantasy. His body began shivering with an unknown desire as he walked, almost unbidden to kneel in front of the creature in front of him. In some corner of his mind Harry knew he should be fighting the magic, he should be working to fight off Malfoy, to rebind him to the bed before he had the opportunity to hurt anyone.

But at the moment his mind had little control over the rest of him. He was flooded with something that resembled pure desire. At that moment he had no greater ambition than to feel those pearly fangs descend onto his neck, piercing his skin, and _sucking_, until absolutely nothing of Harry remained. He tentatively reached up a hand, twisting it into the silvery locks behind Draco's neck, and began tugging his head gently towards him, whether to meet in a kiss or a bite, he didn't know.

"Harry!" he distantly heard an alto voice behind him screaming in terror. "Don't! Fight it! His thrall will consume you if you don't fight it!" But Harry so did not want to fight, he just wanted to fade into pleasure in oblivion without fear of what might happen once he was gone. After saving the entire wizarding world and losing everything that had really mattered to him, didn't he deserve at least that much?

Unfortunately the creature in front of him must have heard Hermione's shouting, too, as the grey eyes blinked once, then twice, then three times before the dilated pupils shrank to pinpricks. Harry felt a forceful hand placed on his shoulder before he found himself pushed to the ground, as the vampire with catlike reflexes curled into himself back on the bed.

After shaking his head a few moments to clear the haze, Harry found himself standing again, his wand trained on the bed and the pathetic vampire hovering and shivering in the middle of it. "_Ennervate!_" he called to his best friend, whose form abruptly shook awake.

"Harry, mate, what's going on?" the redhead asked in confusion before turning to where the vampire now huddled on the duvet.

Harry snarled as he trained his wand back on the vampire again and was about to let a flurry of curses fly when the silver-blonde head lifted and locked eyes with Harry again. This time there was no lust, no desire, nothing in the eyes that had been blurred with tears.

"Please, Harry," a small voice whimpered both in his ears and his mind, "please…Just kill me…" And Harry, for the millionth time that day, wasn't sure what to say.

* * *

**Remember, ladies and gents. Reviews = love and result in quicker update times. :) Also, I am curious as to what questions my readers have up to this point. I mean, I know the questions I have of myself and am planning the upcoming answers accordingly, but as I don't have the entire plot of this fic set in stone yet I am more than happy to listen to other possibilities. Again, have a great weekend, all!**


	5. Chapter 5 Dark Bloodlines

**A/N**: Hi again all! Okay, no shooting the author because she disappeared for a month. *frowns* It wasn't my intention to leave this story alone for so long, but between the move, graduate classes starting (both taking and teaching), and driving to visit friends who live nearby, I just haven't had the time nor the energy. I will make a promise not to leave this story in hiatus, but it may be a bit between updates. I've basically taken to trying to write half a scene or so per day, but right before papers are due it may be less. *cries* In any case, thanks so much everyone for your support! Remember, reviews are love! Oh yes, and still looking for a beta, should anyone want the task, so any mistakes here are mine.

Oh, and a **Disclaimer**: No, I do not own any of the characters or the universe in which they inhabit. I just like to play with them sometimes. JKR and others own everything, I own nothing, and I will never make money off of this little bit of fantasy. :)

**Chapter 5 – Dark Bloodlines**

Draco couldn't help but purr with pleasure as he felt Harry – _his_ Harry – return to the flat. After briefly glancing at the red-headed mortal to ensure he was safely out, he began directing tendrils of magic towards where he felt the floo to be. The tendrils looped around Harry before they began gently tugging him in the direction of the bedroom. And oh, it seemed Harry was at least more intelligent than Draco had previously given him credit for. He seemed to be delaying, as if sensing the magic floating towards him. How sweet.

Finally, FINALLY, he saw Harry walk through the door, and Draco's world shrank to three things: the sight of Harry's rough and darkened skin, the vein below it protruding slightly; the sound of Harry's heartbeat as it seemed to quicken in anticipation; and that fine merlot scent of his life-force wafting into Draco's undead nostrils. Before Draco could even make a command for Harry to come forward, the dark-haired man did, kneeling on both knees in front of Draco before curling fingers into Draco's silver hair. Draco's very being seemed to ignite with fire when those fingers tugged at the blonde locks, pulling him down, silently BEGGING Draco to just take that first sip, to feel that first trickle of warmth down his throat…

"_Harry! Don't! Fight it! His thrall will consume you if you don't fight it!"_ A frightened alto voice seemed to pierce through the hungry haze of Draco's mind.

'_What?_' Draco thought to himself, his pupils constricting as his world seemed to come back into focus. _'What does she mean it will consume him? He WANTS this! I can see it in his eyes!' _ Draco again locked eyes with the emerald eyed man kneeling before him. And it was true, Draco did see want, desire, hunger…But he kept looking. Beyond the want he could see a flicker, something fighting the haze that otherwise dominated Potter's mind.

That was it! He was using it! The thrall! He had felt it often enough at the hands of other vampires. It was what he had hated most. Not because it didn't bring pleasure. Oh, it most CERTAINLY did that. It turned the most excruciating tortures into the most exquisite rapture. Until it was over of course. Whip lashes that had felt like the tickling brush of feathers would begin to burn with a cruel sting. Bite marks that had felt like the most erotic kisses began to hiss in fiery fury.

He had done it, the one thing he swore he would never do. He had done it once, to protect his family, when he had taken the Dark Mark and engineered a way to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. And now he had done it a second time. He had become the very thing which he had hated the most.

Breaking from his own haze, Draco forced a shaky hand up to Potter's chest and pushed, firmly but carefully, forcing the man away from him. He broke eye contact and curled into himself on top of the duvet, the self-comforting position a luxury he'd not been allowed in a good long while.

"Please, Harry," he allowed his shaky voice to reach out into the room beyond himself, "Please…just kill me…"

* * *

Harry stood in front of the cringing vampire, wand at the ready but shaking furiously. _'What the hell just happened?'_ he couldn't help but think. At one moment Harry felt some baser part of himself kneeling in front of Draco – _and when had he become Draco? - _ practically BEGGING to be bitten, to be used, to be taken. At the next, that rational, sane (_'Boring'_ he heard his mind whisper) part in the back of his mind had fought for dominance. Or had it? No, it hadn't. He hadn't pulled away from the vampire at all, but had been pushed. Wait? Malfoy pushed **him** away? That didn't make any sense, did it?

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the growl darkly emanating from the redhead beside him. "You little piece of SHIT!" Ron screamed in Malfoy's face as he pushed his wand only inches from where the blonde was still curled on the bed. "This is the fucking THANKS we get?!? Harry saves your bloody life, brings you into his bloody home, and pampers your WORTHLESS ARSE, and FOR WHAT? For you to take the first opportunity you can to BETRAY him?" Malfoy, to his credit, didn't answer, but only curled deeper into himself. Harry couldn't help but notice that the vampire began trembling violently, and had just made up his mind to interrupt Ron's tirade when Hermione stepped in for him.

"Ronald," she whispered into Ron's ear as she gently placed her hand on his forearm, pulling it and his wand out of striking range of Malfoy. "Calm down. Look at him, just LOOK at him. The poor thing looks scared out of his mind."

Ron snorted. "Good," he replied, although he finished bringing his wand down. "Little shit DESERVES it, using his thrall like that on people who have DONE HIM NO HARM!"

"Ron, cut it out!" Harry finally managed to voice his thoughts. "Just calm the fuck down! I mean, look, he hasn't even FED tonight, he isn't in restraints, and he has yet to actually go for either of our jugulars. Heck, he didn't even go after mine, I almost forced him into it!" Harry couldn't help the furious blush that crept up his cheeks at the memory. "He seems to be a bit more in control of himself now, so if you could please do us the favor of trying to do the same?"

Ron was still steaming but seemed to be pacified, at least temporarily. "Maybe so, mate," he responded begrudgingly, "but I would still feel better if he were back in restraints, especially with 'Mione in the room." Harry frowned but nodded. He pulled himself up to sit on the bed next to Malfoy, who immediately cringed away from his side. Harry's frown deepened.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked hesitantly, trying to vocally urge Draco's eyes to meet his. "I'm going to put you back in restraints now, okay? I don't want to hurt you, but you're going to have to uncurl, or else I'll have a spell do it for you." Malfoy seemed to shiver more, but eventually followed directions and uncramped himself from his position. With a few whispered words he was back in restraints, albeit it with more room to maneuver in the bed.

"Much better," Harry said, attempting to praise the shaken man as he would a small nervous child. "Now, I know you haven't fed yet tonight, so let's—"

"No," the strangely husky voice cut in. "I won't do it." Finally, Malfoy turned his head towards Harry. "I won't give into what I hate, Potter." The intensity in Malfoy's grey eyes caused a blush to reignite on Harry's face, but the words he spoke only confused Harry more.

"What do you mean, Malfoy? You need to feed. It's the only way we have of controlling your rationality at the moment."

"I seem to be surviving right now," Malfoy replied snarkily, although with less venom than Harry would usually expect. "Besides, I'm sure you would rather not be having me suck you free of your bodily fluids…"

'_That's what you think—' _Harry's mind responded. Harry jumped a little at his own train of thoughts before putting them to abrupt halt and stuffing them towards the back of his mind. Turned out the little bit of Occlumency he knew did have SOME advantages…

"I still don't understand," Harry finally started. "What do you mean you won't become what you hate? You are what you are. You. Are. A. Vampire. It says nothing about you as a person." Harry glanced over at Hermione who seemed to raise her eyebrows, but whether it was in surprise or sheer impressed astonishment Harry didn't know. At least Harry knew he'd have her support in this one.

"I know how it feels," Malfoy's whisper invaded Harry's thoughts once again. "I know what it feels like…to lose control of yourself…to feel like what you want least is that what you want most. That's what the vampiric thrall does to you. It turns pain into pleasure, but in the end it doesn't matter. The victim suffers anyway. I never wanted to become that creature. But I have." Harry met the grey eyes again, only briefly, before Malfoy turned his head away. For that brief moment, Harry thought he saw them glistening.

"I am the one thing I hated most." Malfoy took a shaky breath. "I used the thrall on both of you to get what I wanted." His voice trailed off at the end until he was speaking in just a whisper. "That's why. Please…just….just do it. Kill me. I don't want to live with what I've become."

Ignoring the fuming and tensed muscles of her husband, Hermione slipped past him to sit on the bed at Malfoy's feet. She tenderly placed a comforting hand on the vampire's ankle while sneaking a glance at her husband. He looked about ready to explode, but to his credit he said nothing. "Malfoy," she whispered sweetly, "Take a step back and just look at yourself for a minute. Tell me, how are you physically feeling right now?"

Malfoy glanced down at the hand on his ankle before meeting her eyes. "Like my veins are on fire, like my stomach is so empty it may never know what it feels like not to be hungry."

Hermione nodded. "And what are you doing at the moment? Are you pulling at your restraints, demanding to be set free? Are you sending your thrall out now, forcing Harry—or any of us—to allow you to feed?" Malfoy quickly turned his head away and stared resolutely at some fascinating spot on the ceiling. Hermione couldn't stifle a small smile.

"That's my point. Yes, you let your instincts override your better judgment there for a few moments, but you did no one any lasting harm and you calmly and rationally allowed Harry to restrain you, something I've NEVER heard of from a fledgling vampire before. You are already in better control of some of your powers than many vamps are for MONTHS after being turned." Harry nodded in respect at her words, and Ron just frowned a little in acknowledgement that she might be right.

"And you know what? I actually think it's probably a good idea to let him go a little bit without feeding. He won't starve immediately and it will give us some time to go over some information. In the meanwhile, he can have some experience fighting for control of the urges. Harry, how strong are the wards on the flat?"

Harry snorted. "Neither Voldemort, nor Grindelwald, nor Albus Dumbledore himself could get through the wards on this flat, I assure you." Harry took his home security VERY seriously, especially with reporters from the Daily Prophet constantly trying to infiltrate his living room for some up-close-and-personal interview on what the "Saviour of the Wizarding World" was up to next.

"Yes, but could a fledgling vampire get OUT?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not bloody likely. I've upped the security even more since Malfoy's been here."

Hermione nodded once in acceptance. "Good, then place a tracking charm on him, just in case he does manage to get out, and then come with us to our house. I've got a lot of information in my office that I didn't get to take to the Ministry tonight, and we could go over our new strategies for the upcoming weeks, with what's happening and whatnot…"

"Wait, so you were in that meeting with Kingsley, too?" Ron asked, finally deciding to rejoin the conversation as they went to safer topics.

"Oh yes," Malfoy's voice seemed to have regained its—amazingly welcome—snark. "What exactly WERE you two doing that was more important than taking care of me, hmmmm?"

Harry sighed, and the original irritation he'd felt upon arrival at the flat was back in full force. "Shit…with all the drama I forgot to tell you. I'm really sorry, Malfoy, but…well…"

"They've declared open hunting season on all vampires," Hermione said in her matter-of-fact way.

"WHAT???" Ron and Malfoy said simultaneously, earning each of them a glare from the other. "What the fuck do you mean OPEN hunting season? That's fucking INSANE!"

"We KNOW, Ron! That's why I was so pissed off earlier." Harry's face was blood red again, and this time it was NOT from embarrassment.

"They're just acting like a bunch of scared children," Hermione interjected. "Apparently this afternoon a group of vamps attacked Hogsmeade—" A muted gasp seemed to come from both Ron and Malfoy with that revelation. "—And as if that weren't bad enough, it happened in broad daylight."

"Well, SHIT!" Ron exclaimed. "No wonder they're pissed. With Hogsmeade being so close to Hogwarts, it makes the vamps seem more likely to attack Hogwarts, and if they're doing it during the day—"

"—Then they have the ability to go after students when they aren't safe in the castle," Malfoy interrupted. "Please tell me the word hasn't gotten out about the attack, because if it did then this hunting season will be even worse with scared parents being pissed the hell off."

"No, thank Merlin," Harry responded. "At this point the public doesn't even know that the laws have been passed, although I imagine they will begin to by sunrise. The _Daily Prophet_ won't sit on this for long. Too good a story."

"We tried to stop the Wizengamot, to tell them they were being irrational. I mean, REALLY…The only vampires that are going to be in danger from this law are the ones who are LEGALLY REGISTERED. I mean, really, who else would KNOW one of DarkStar's hive? By the time someone would get close enough, they'd pretty much be dead." Hermione's voice had taken on that flustered tone that meant she just didn't understand why not everyone saw the way she did.

"Well, fuck," Malfoy jumped in. "And here I was pissed off about everything, but at least looking forward to re-emerging in the wizarding world again. Now I'm pretty much fucked. Here I'll sit in Potter's humble little flat while the world goes around hunting me because of something I had absolutely no control over. Sort of like the Dark Mark come again." He glanced down at his left forearm in disgust as he studied the red skull and serpent there.

Hermione looked up at him in confusion. "Malfoy, you mean to say you still have the Dark Mark?"

Malfoy glared at her as if she were an imbecile. "Why, yes, Granger, I was under the impression that the damned thing happened to be permanent. Why wouldn't I still have it?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed. "First of all, it's Weasley now, so you might as well get used to it. Secondly, you shouldn't still have it. The turning SHOULD have rid your body of all physical defects, including the Dark Mark, and for that matter, the gashes on your legs." She began twirling her finger through her hair as she sometimes did when absorbed in a problem. "This is definitely something I need to add to my list to research." She turned back to Ron and Harry before nodding to each of them and standing and stretching.

"So, you'll be okay in here for a few hours while we go try to get something figured out? Are you sure you don't need to feed?" Harry asked Malfoy, the concern etching unusual lines into his face as he moved to join her.

Malfoy sighed. "I'm fine Potter. Go do your duty and…what was it?...save my worthless arse?" He looked pointedly at Ron.

Ron scowled. "Listen Malfoy, I won't say I know what you're going through, because I don't. But there is something about me that you need to understand. I don't trust you, and I don't like you. You've never been anything but a prat to me. I don't fight for you, but for those people who really ARE innocent and whose lives will be threatened by this law. And mark my words, if you betray me—no, if you betray _Harry or Hermione_—I will be personally enacting those hunting laws myself. Are we understood?" Ron's magic vibrated off of him with his annoyance, but he seemed satisfied when Malfoy gave a sincere nod. Ron walked out of the room.

Harry sighed. "We'll be back in a few hours, Malfoy. In the meantime, there are a few old Quidditch magazines in the bedside table. Your restraints ought to give you enough room to move around a bit, even if you can't leave the bed. When I get back we'll see about the whole feeding bit."

Malfoy nodded at Harry, though Harry could see from the fire burning in his eyes that he was still in pain. Harry nodded quickly before following Ron out the door. Hermione was just about to follow when she heard a tiny voice coming from the bed.

"Gr-Hermione?" Malfoy called in almost a whisper. Hermione turned around to look back over her shoulder and raised an eyebrow. Malfoy seemed to huff. "Well…Thanks…" He tried giving a small smile, but it came out as a smirk.

Hermione returned the smirk. "No problem…Draco…" With that, she left the room and headed for the floo.

* * *

"Wow, you guys have already done a number on this place!" Harry couldn't help but be impressed at the changes the Weasley's had made to their home office. Hermione's desk and bookshelves still took up over half the room, but the other half had been cleared out and lined with what looked to be antique nursery furniture. Harry took one hand and ran it longingly over the dark cherry of the crib and lost himself in thought for a moment.

"Yes, well, Hermione's mum insisted on giving us all this old family furniture, seeing as how she's an only child and they've no one else to give it to." Ron beamed with barely contained excitement.

"Yes, well, muggle or not I think it brings a lot of warmth into the room, don't you think so, Harry?"

"What?" Harry jumped as if startled as he seemed to refocus on reality. "Oh, yeah, the furniture's really beautiful, 'Mione." He smiled wistfully at her before shaking his head to regain some semblance of attention.

"So, now that we are temporarily free of both Wizengamot and overly dramatic ferrets, what information have you dug up for us?" Ron collapsed into Hermione's desk chair, earning him a glare from his wife.

Hermione scrambled through some notes sitting on the desk before turning around and planting herself on top. "Well, at first it was sort of slow going. I mean, I've been helping you guys research vampires for MONTHS with all of this DarkStar mess, and I hadn't really found the sort of information that might help. I finally talked Madame Pince into loaning me a few books out of the Restricted Section at Hogwarts, and got a little bit more information at least…" She paused to take a look at the notes she had jotted down earlier in the day.

"I think the first thing we really should do, if we're going to help Draco, is to figure out what vampiric race he belongs to." She lifted a quill to her chin in thought before moving on. "Of course, we know that ALL vampire races have certain traits: allergies to sunlight, the need for blood for sustenance, the use of the thrall, certain regenerative abilities, etc. But there are further traits that are passed down from sire to fledgling, and they all take root in four basic lineages."

"Wait wait wait…You mean we've been chasing after this nest of vamps for MONTHS and they may have abilities we don't even KNOW about??" Harry's eyes widened and his temper began to flare.

Hermione took a luxurious sigh. "Honestly, Harry, it's not like it's common knowledge. The vampire underground has become much like the wizarding world. What once was a very stratified class system of pureblood versus muggleborn—who rarely if ever interacted—has now become a system still fraught with prejudice, but on the whole united, so much so that even the most pureblood families can trace their lines back to muggles at SOME point, even if the interaction is very small."

"So you're saying what, that we have half-blood vampires now?" Ron interrupted. "Do they ALL have a multitude of powers we don't know about?" Ron began to worry his lip just slightly.

"Not quite, Ron," Hermione continued. "It's not like a vampire can have two sires. It's a one-to-one exchange of blood. Having more than one vamp turn a single victim would most likely interfere with the turning process, either killing the fledgling or driving him insane." Her eyes widened as if she had just encountered a new thought, but apparently decided to drop it. "In any case, what it means for us NOW is that as the different vampiric races have come in contact with each other, they've begun to have mixed nests. It has created equality among the vampire underground, but at the expense of a lack of skills. A vampire who is not trained by a mentor in one's special abilities soon lacks the ability to use them at all. Vamps living together have a tendency to essentially combine their minds, and any special skills that one vamp may have are simply forgotten because of the rest who don't."

Harry met her eyes. "So what you're saying is that we need to discover what race Malfoy is because it can help us discover his unique strengths and weaknesses, but because he is lacking a mentor vamp that would be knowledgeable about possible skills, even if we KNEW his race, he may not even be able to discover what those strengths and weaknesses are. It's a circular problem, Hermione. I don't know what there is that we can do at this point."

Hermione bit her nails for just a minute, dropping her eyes away from Harry and Ron. "Well, there is a way we could get him in contact with possible mentors…"

"Oh, no you don't Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley," Ron hopped out of the chair to stand in front of his wife. "You are not getting anywhere NEAR any more vampires than you have to, and ESPECIALLY not now that they are probably so pissed off and frightened about these hunting laws."

Hermione sighed in exasperation and rested her forehead on Ron's shoulder. "Ron, I have no intention of putting myself into anymore danger than necessary. But please hear me out on this one." She began worrying her bottom lip between her teeth before she raised her head again and divided her attention between Ron and Harry.

"Well, it's just…I think we might be able to kill two birds with one stone." When Ron gave her a confused look, she added, "That is, to kill two kneazles with one mandrake." Ron's eyes flashed in recognition and encouraged her to continue. Hermione sighed and looked straight into Harry's eyes. "You're not going to like it."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Just out with it Hermione. Your ideas are generally brilliant, so let's just hear it."

Hermione seemed to pique at the praise and regained a little of her confidence. "Well…I was thinking…Well, with the Wizengamot having lost its mind, there are going to plenty of perfect ordinary law-abiding vampire citizens who are going to be scared and looking for protection now that the Ministry has done away with theirs. And if their only option for safety is to join DarkStar's hive…"

"Then we've got a huge mess on our hands. But what can we DO about it?" Harry looked at her with impatience, practically willing her to get to the point.

"Well, Harry…Just imagine…If the vampires had somewhere safe to go, somewhere with wards that say, Albus Dumbledore himself couldn't break through…" She grinned in amusement at her best friend.

Harry frowned. "You want me to offer up my FLAT as a safe house?"

Hermione hopped off the desk, shoving past Ron to smack Harry on the arm. "No, you buffoon! GRIMMAULD PLACE…The place has been all but empty since Gin…" Hermione saw Ron wince, which only gave her more courage to continue. "Since Ginny passed away the house has been relatively empty."

Harry looked at her skeptically. "What makes you think I'd even ALLOW that?"

"Well, for one, because you're Harry Potter and you must therefore ALWAYS be doing something that protects people. This would be one way to do that. Secondly, if we got enough vampires to flee with us to one house, we might be able to find a mentor for Malfoy. And for that matter, we might find vampires willing to fight with us against DarkStar and his hive." She smiled grimly. "The only way to fight prejudice is to prove how it is faulty. If perfectly normal vampires see a way to align themselves with good people, to prove that they are not the monsters that most witches and wizards see them as, they will take it." With that she finished her argument and looked into Harry's eyes. "So…what do you think, brilliant plan?" She grinned sheepishly up at Harry.

Harry gave a small smile, but it quickly leveled out. "I think it's a brilliant plan, 'Mione, it's just…" Harry gazed off as if into the distance for a moment before turning to face her again. "No, forget I said anything, it's a brilliant plan, 'Mione. I can see to the wards on Grimmauld Place. Ron, how about you put that big mouth of yours to use."

Ron scowled at Harry. "And WHAT may I ask is THAT supposed to mean?"

Harry grinned and punched his best friend in the arm. "Well, if we are going to be opening a safehouse for vampires, I suppose we better figure out a way to get the word out. Preferably before the Prophet wakes most of England tomorrow morning."

Ron gave a curt nod. "I'll head back up to the Ministry now. Maybe I can sweet-talk that blonde in the Magical Creatures department who can get me some contact information for the prominent registered vamps in England." Hermione scowled at him before smacking him on the arm playfully.

"So long as it's all talk and no action, Mr. Weasley." She smirked at him, which led him to quickly cover her lips with his.

"I promise, 'Mione. See you in a few hours, mate." With that he headed back towards the floo to head towards the Ministry.

Harry sighed. "I suppose that means I'm on my way to Grimmauld Place. Or better yet, I've got the spells for the wards memorized. Why don't I write them down for you and let you go get started on them. Someone needs to check on Malfoy and your husband will kill me if it's you." He grinned playfully.

"Yes yes, Harry, I get it. You don't want to go to Grimmauld alone. I'll head over that way now. You know, I don't know why I didn't think to look in the Black libraries for information earlier anyway. You can catch me up once you've checked on our ferretty friend." Harry hugged Hermione in thanks before heading to the floo and back to his flat.

* * *

Harry stepped through the floo and almost stumbled over his own sofa before he regained his bearings. He shook the soot off of his robes before heading back towards the bedroom. Immediately he could feel that something had changed, that something was just not right. There was a feeling of emptiness, of incredible cold.

It wasn't the vampiric thrall. Now that Harry knew what that felt like he imagined he would recognize it again, and this was no pull, at least, not in the same way. He did not feel like something was reaching out, trying to draw him into some darkened hole or pit. This was just a vast EMPTINESS, leaving Harry with the inexplicable desire to do SOMETHING to fill it up again. Make it less cold. Less dead…

With a start Harry rushed into the bedroom, and what he saw made the shivers racing down his spine increase. Malfoy was still secured firmly to the bed, but his body was writhing, much like it had been after tasting Ron's blood just a few days ago. The pale skin was no longer cracked and steaming, but seemed to be bright with an almost blue translucent glow. Harry cautiously but quickly went to the head of the bed, making sure to stay outside of fang's reach.

"Malfoy? MALFOY!...Draco look at me!" With that the vampire's eyes opened, but they were not the sparkling grey they had been earlier in the evening. The whites of the vamp's eyes had gone to blood red, and his black pupils had expanded to completely cover the grey of the iris. The vamp said nothing, but locked eyes with Harry as the auror took in the sight before him. Harry could see the elongated fangs, which had been barely noticeable before, extending down into Malfoy's bottom lip, cutting small holes in the sensitive flesh. The blood that oozed slowly out of the holes was a deep black.

"Fuck," Harry whispered as he felt himself going into full-blown panic. He looked around the room hastily for the conjured goblet, but it was nowhere to be found. Ignoring the small voice in his head that was telling him he was an idiot, he quickly rolled up his left sleeve to expose his wrist. He set the wrist in front of Malfoy's face and made a single command.

"Drink." As if having been waiting for the permission, the vamp's ravenous fangs lifted quickly to meet the veins in front of it. The vampire clamped on, and to Harry, all the world was suddenly pain.

* * *

_**Remember, Reviews = Love! :)**_


	6. Chapter 6 The Call

**A/N:** I know, I know! I'm terrible with the spacing of the updates! The truth is that I get the chapter outlined relatively quickly, but it takes me several hours of uninterrupted composition time to get the actual chapter typed up, and those blocks of time are generally very difficult to find these days. I was lucky enough to have a three-day weekend to get this done!

As for my lovely reviewers, thank you so much for all of your support! You guys are what keeps me coming back to write sometimes. Oh, and since Ginny came back up this chapter, I thought I would address something an earlier reviewer mentioned about "getting her out of the way"...I actually like Ginny Weasley as a character. I can enjoy fic where she is a manipulative evil bitch, although I don't really see that as necessarily realistic, and I don't really see it as realistic when she is all super-supportive of Harry's coming out process and becomes his cheerleader and best friend either. Let's face it, being in love with someone who doesn't love you back HURTS. In this particular story, I think Harry did and does love Ginny very much, but sometimes things just happen, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. Again, I don't dislike Ginny Weasley, but this is a Harry/Draco story and I did have to get rid of her somehow!

**A/N #2:** Someone pointed out to me that I had anonymous reviews disabled! Eep! It's fixed now! Thanks so much for what you've left already! Reviews & con/crit are my drug. :)

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing. JKR & company own everything, much to my dismay. :(

**Warnings:** Hardly anything in this chapter other than a little bit of language and self-loathing. Otherwise this one's relatively safe, and I hope takes care of the cliffie I left last chapter. Hope you all have a wonderful day! Also, a reminder that I am STILL Beta-Less, which means all mistakes are mine. (Again, if you are interested in Beta-ing for me, shoot me a PM and we'll talk.)

**Chapter 6 – The Call**

The burning in his veins and stomach had only intensified since Harry – _Potter_, he corrected himself – had left. Whether it had been minutes or days since the auror had left the flat, Draco could not say. With the scent of merlot in his nostrils, the sound of Harry's –_ POTTER'S_ – heartbeat always floating in the back of his hearing, Draco could control the urge to feed. He wanted – _needed_ – permission to feed, and without that permission he would not do it. He would not hurt _his_ Harry…

Draco realized quickly that the thoughts he had been housing did not seem to be his own. It was as if he was of two minds, bickering for control of his still-weakened body. One voice, the one he recognized best, was the one he dubbed the "sane" one. It sounded much as Draco's own voice did, and was constantly reminding him of just who he was staying with, just how much he owed the savior of the wizarding world, just how much he wanted to HATE him…And just how unworthy he was to have been saved, yet again, by Harry Bloody Potter.

The second voice seemed much more primal, stronger, darker, huskier. It reminded him over and over again that Harry – for it REFUSED to call him anything else – BELONGED to Draco. He was his to protect, his to drink from, his to lo—and the first..the sane voice would stop that line of thinking right there.

But right now, it was the darker voice that was taking control. It was terribly, murderously ANGRY. Not at Harry, for Harry had freely offered his blood for the taking, but at the puny disgusting HUMAN the voice had found itself attached to. It wanted – NEEDED – blood, needed to feel the life-force rejuvenating its own soul, and the human had _denied_ it!

The voice fought and fought until Draco no longer felt his own voice in his head. It had been shoved into the farthest crevice of his mind where it had no control. The monster in his soul had completely taken over, and somewhere in his sub-consciousness, Draco could feel his body writhing in pain and hunger.

Then, just as the pain was cresting, it seemed to expode. Harry was _here_! He could feel his magic stepping back into the warded flat. The monster looked through a blood-red haze and watched as its life walked into the bedroom. The creature's voice seemed to cackle through the haze of Draco's mind as it watched the human look around blindly for some sort of answer. '_It's worried about us,_' it crooned to Draco. '_How sweet._'

'_NO!'_ Draco's own hysterical voice cried out. '_Don't hurt him! I hate you! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!'_

The monstrous voice only chuckled in response. '_I hate you, too, Draco Malfoy…'_

The inner dialogue was shattered by a single command from the human's lips: "Drink," the baritone commanded. Draco wasted no more time, but lowered his fangs to the wrist in front of him and drank. The sweet coppery taste hit his tongue like a wave of pure ecstasy, and the shaking of Draco's previously weak body trembled with pleasure. He drank deeply, pulling the life-force further and further into his own body, keening in joy and satiation.

The monster began to feel satiated, and Draco quickly began forcing it to the back of his mind. Draco did not know when the shackles on his wrists had been released, but he vaguely became aware of the tight grip he now had on Harry's – _Potter's_ – arm. It took every ounce of his willpower to carefully retract his fangs from the bloodied and mangled wrist in front of him – _Oh, Merlin! So much blood!_ – and he quickly looked down to his lap as he watched dull green eyes flutter shut.

"Potter…" Draco called in a raspy voice as he shook the man sprawled across his lap. "Potter?" he questioned again when he got no response. Draco reached his fingers down and gently applied pressure to the base of Harry's neck, feeling for a pulse. Though still there, it seemed rapid and weak.

Draco quickly wrapped the edge of the duvet around the bloody wrist, hoping to be able to stem the weakening flow of blood from the wound. He felt panic begin to descend like a madman, which made the monster – who seemed now to be sitting in the back of Draco's head, content to watch and see what he would do – begin prompting him.

'_You've taken too much,'_ he taunted. '_I will be VERY disappointed if you have killed MY_ _Harry,'_ it crooned.

"I didn't do anything!" Draco protested aloud. "You made me do it!"

The voice fell silent, and Draco's panic climbed to new heights. He COULDN'T let Harry – _Potter_ – die! As if being turned wasn't punishment enough, who knew what would happen when Weasley and Granger (_Hermione_, he corrected himself) came back and discovered what he had done. No, he had to save Harry. He looked around the room frightfully, wishing for a solution, but knew there wouldn't be one. Harry MIGHT keep blood replenisher in stock in the loo, but Draco's legs were being usually unresponsive, not to mention the fact that he was pinned underneath Potter's dead – and wasn't that a terrible thought – weight. Finally, Draco did the only thing he could think of. He drew on the tendrils of innate magic in his body, and sent them out blindly. '_We're in trouble!'_ he cried as loudly as he could in his head. '_Somebody! We need help!'_ With every ounce of magic he could pull from his magical core, he sent out a distress signal, all the while holding the duvet to Harry's wrist and gently combing fingers through his raven hair.

* * *

Hermione couldn't help but chastise herself for her pure short-sightedness. How could she NOT have thought to consult the Black libraries? They had been one of the darkest pureblood families in the UK, possibly in all of Western Europe, and Harry had never gotten rid of any of their books, the one set of Dark artifacts he had chosen to hide from the Aurors after the war. If there was any addition information on vampires to be found, it would likely be in this library.

Hermione was grinning broadly after her search had proven fruitful. She had close to fifteen books to study now—granted, she had to fight some of the sentient ones off with her wand before they would let a muggleborn touch them—but she now had them all subdued, shrunken with a quick charm, and tossed into a messenger bag over her shoulder.

She glanced down at her muggle watch and was surprised to see that she had left Harry over an hour ago. Surely it would not take THAT long to make sure Malfoy—_Draco_—was properly fed, would it? Just as she had made the decision to floo back to Harry's flat, she felt a voice in the back of her head that sounded DISTURBINGLY like Draco's. '_We're in trouble! Somebody, we need help!'_ Hermione wasted no more time worrying and instead dashed quickly to the floo.

­­­­­

* * *

Ron couldn't help but snicker to himself at how easy it was to sneak into the vampire registry. The blonde woman, whom he had ALWAYS known to be a little vapid, had absolutely no business working for the Magical Creatures department. The woman had obviously no qualms concerning the Wizengamot's decision earlier that day, which had already apparently begun spreading through the Ministry. If Rita Skeeter hadn't known already she probably did now.

"Thinking of going hunting tonight?" she asked in a low voice as she shuffled the folder of names to Ron. He almost laughed outright at her when she teasingly tried to pull the folder back.

Ron let his eyes run up the blonde's rather…lumpy…body (he supposed she was trying to go for curvy but just had curves in a few too many places) and put a fake leer into his eyes. "Maybe," he said as he quirked a smirky smile he had learned from George. No one knew how to mime seduction better than George Weasley.

The blonde blushed – but in blotches rather than in any sort of attractive way – before handing over the file. Ron quickly walked out of his office and to the nearest secure floo, glancing through the names on the list as he traveled. He was not terribly surprised not to recognize a number of the names. After all, muggleborns were far more likely to be bitten than purebloods. Pureblood wizards were raised from birth with a fear of vampires. Vampires drank blood, something highly valued by most of pureblood society. A pureblood would be trained to take certain precautions in the event of being near any suspected vampire activity. They often would likely off themselves if ever turned. Obviously, vampire blood was still tainted blood, regardless of what sort of power came with the change, and in the eyes of the pureblood, there was no salvation from having dirty blood.

Ron continued glancing through the file until his eyes stopped on one Blaise Zabini. His eyes got wider as he read some of the information next to his name. Apparently he was consensually turned, which to Ron meant he was either trying to make permanent a relationship with another vampire or just had a vampire kink. Knowing Zabini's reputation shortly after the war for being a playboy, Ron suspected the latter.

The more he thought about it, Blaise would likely be the perfect person to get the vampire underground rolling. If he had been turned more than a year or two ago – and by the looks of his information it looked to have been at least four – and he was still living as a playboy in the underground, he probably had connections that could be useful to get the ball rolling.

Ron had just picked up a handful of floo powder when an almost imperceptible voice floated into his ear. It seemed distressed, but Ron otherwise could make out nothing. He glanced at an auror-in-training walking down the hall, head in some training manual (and oh how Ron did NOT miss those days), so Ron called out to him.

"Oi, mate, did you hear anything just now?" The young man looked around himself and shrugged his shoulders.

"No, sir," he shouted back somewhat timidly. "I didn't even realize I wasn't alone." The brunette seemed to flush at the admission, which made Ron smirk.

"Yes, I suppose that means you might want to spend less time in a book and more time watching your surroundings, especially if you want to make it in this field." Seeing the young recruit's unease, he allowed himself a small smile. "Don't worry about it though, mate. Have a good evening!" The young man ducked his head and seemed to walk even faster down the hall and out of Ron's sight.

Ron yawned deeply before tossing the powder into the flames. He would pass the information onto Zabini and hopefully something would be rolling before dawn. Then he would head back to Harry's and collapse on the recliner for a while. He must be tired if he was hearing voices in an almost empty Ministry building.

* * *

Hermione didn't waste time brushing off her robes as she stepped from Harry's floo, but instead rushed towards the bedroom. She was not prepared for the sight that greeted her upon her arrival. Draco was sitting up, no longer in shackles, with Harry sprawled across his lap. Draco's right hand was desperately holding onto Harry's wrist, the duvet wrapped around it drenched in blood, and his left was combing desperately through Harry's hair. Draco was hunched over Harry protectively, whispering something Hermione couldn't hear into his ear. Just then, he seemed to register her presence.

"Hermione!" Draco called over to her, his voice raspy and breaking. "You've gotta do something! He came home and I – I lost it – and he fed me – only I think I took too much…He's got a pulse still but it's getting weaker, and I can't get up to help him or have a wand or anything!"

Hermione walked cautiously but quickly and sat on the bed next to the two men. She pried Draco's fingers away from his injured wrist, not flinching in the slightest at the sight of the mangled flesh. A whispered word from her and a flick of her wand and the wound was knitting itself back together. She dug into her shoulder bag past all the miniaturized books and withdrew a few potion vials that she had learned to keep on her in her work as a Healer.

"Draco," she said soothingly as she realized he was still trembling next to her, "I am going to carefully pour these into his mouth. I need you to massage his throat while I do it to make sure he swallows them, okay?" She smiled hesitantly at the frightened blonde, and he seemed to relax just a bit. He returned a hesitant smile and began trying to put Harry in a more helpful position. Once they had successfully gotten the potions down his throat, Hermione lifted his undamaged wrist, feeling for a pulse as she timed it with her watch.

"I think that ought to do it," she said finally. "He'll be weak for a bit but he should be no worse for the wear. I imagine he'd be coming around right about now if he hadn't already been so exhausted. It may be a bit before he rejoins us." She quickly brandished her wand, cleaning and sorting out the bed sheets and levitated Harry into a more comfortable position next to Draco, who had gone even paler than usual as they had worked.

"Draco, are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, not knowing whether her comfort was needed or wanted. Draco met her eyes, and she saw they were bloodshot and glistening.

"No," he whispered. "No, I'm not." His shoulders started trembling and he brought his hands up to cover his eyes. Hermione just watched and waited for him to continue.

"Do you know what it's like," he said finally, "to spend your entire adult life in the service of evil? First the Dark Lord, then DarkStar and his hive…" He paused and seemed to gulp for air. "Don't get me wrong Granger—"

"Hermione," she corrected gently and placed a hand tentatively on his knee.

"—I know I was stupid when I was a kid. I didn't know what I was getting into when I took the Dark Mark, or when I begged for my life the night the hive came to the Manor…But…but you have to believe me, I didn't WANT things to turn out this way." His breath was coming in spasms now, his voice bordering on unrecognizable as it got louder through his tears. "And here Saint Potter comes, rescuing me yet again from my own stupidity…I should have just fed when he offered earlier. I wouldn't have let that—thing—take over my thoughts. I could've stopped this. I ALMOST KILLED HIM!" He turned towards Hermione and gave her the most awfully desperate look she had ever seen. "WHY COULDN'T HE JUST LET ME DIE?!?!"

And with that he seemed to have used up all his air reserves. He was sobbing in earnest now, for once not concerned with who was watching him cry. Hermione hesitantly took her arms and wrapped them around him. He stiffened in her embrace but did not pull away.

"Oh, Draco, honestly..." she whispered into his hair as she rubbed his back soothingly. "You couldn't help any of what's happened to you, not really. Sure, you were a bit of a prat when you were a boy, but who could blame you, growing up as you did? You were never REALLY evil. You couldn't kill Dumbledore, even to protect your family, and you CERTAINLY had nothing to do with what's happened to you since then." She pulled away from him and forced him to look her directly in the eye. "Draco, you are NOT a monster. You called for help when you needed it, to save him. You stopped feeding before it was too late, though by now with such a low supply you must be STARVING for a full meal."

Draco closed his eyes desperately and tried to pull away, but Hermione vowed to have none of it, and pulled him back into her embrace. "Draco, most wizards who survive an unwanted transformation, well…it's not pretty. They go through periods of depression. Many end up finding ways to kill themselves. It's unpleasant, but there it is." She had lifted a hand to Draco's hair and began playing with the silky strands. "A lot of people just can't take what they have become. What they don't understand is that who they are has NOTHING TO DO with whether they are a vampire or not. There are plenty of people—good and evil—both vampire and human. You are who you choose to be." She pulled Draco back and looked into his eyes again, which were wide with hope, but still distressed. "I can't speak for Harry, or Ron, or anyone else, but now, without the influence of the Dark Lord or the hive, I'd like to watch and see who you might choose to be."

With that final statement, Draco threw himself back into Hermione's arms, embracing her as if afraid to be anywhere else, and burying his face in her neck, causing Hermione to smile and sense a vague interest in the fact that she felt no fear.

"WHAT THE FUCK!" Hermione felt Draco jump from her arms with the verbal explosion. She heard a cry of "_Petrificus Totalus!_" before watching a red light blast the blonde off the bed and into the corner of the room. She looked towards the direction of the light's source and saw her husband glaring angrily – and fearfully – down at the now paralyzed Draco.

* * *

Ronald Bilius Weasley was seeing red. He stood frozen for a minute as he took in the scene. Harry was laid out on the bed, obviously dead to the world (although Ron wouldn't entertain that thought for a moment), and his wife with her arms wrapped tightly around a certain fledgling vampire, and that certain vampire with his face buried near her jugular. Any moment he would sink those fangs into his beautiful wife's neck…

"WHAT THE FUCK!" he finally screamed as soon as his mouth caught up with his reeling brain. He pointed his wand at the blonde head that had jumped up. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" The blonde's paralyzed body was blasted from the bed into the far corner of the room.

Ron quickly stepped over to his obviously still enthralled wife and cupped her cheek gently, checking her for bite marks. Finding none, and seeing Harry breathing, if not awake, decided that his primary focus at the moment would be Malfoy. He stalked over to the blonde and held the tip of his wand to his bare chest. "I WARNED you, Malfoy! I told you that if you ever betrayed Harry or Hermione that I would KILL you. _Avad—_"

"RONALD, NO!" He heard his wife's voice cried out as he felt her solid and stubborn, if not bulky, weight push against him until he found himself sprawled on the floor as well.

"What the hell, Hermione! He was using his thrall on you! He was going to bite you! He's obviously already done something to Harry!" He gestured to the bed in irritation. His irritation only rose when he saw that Hermione had placed herself stubbornly between himself and the ferret.

"Ronald if you would wait for two seconds and just LISTEN! Malfoy was NOT using his thrall on me and was NOT going to bite me! He's already fed once tonight for Merlin's sake! Harry just let him get carried away and he took a bit too much. I've already given him blood replenisher and he's FINE, just sleeping off the weakness. I was HUGGING Draco because he's my FRIEND and he needed comfort!" Ron couldn't help but gape at his wife.

"You were HUGGING him? You're FRIENDS? 'Mione, this is DRACO FUCKING MALFOY we're talking about! The Death Eater, the bigot who made all of our school years HELL, the vampire who's probably fucking working with DarkStar to get close to Harry for some reason!" Ron couldn't possibly believe that his normally astute wife had become so taken with the vampire. Certainly she HAD to know she was still under the effects of the thrall? Why else would she come to his defense? Ron was still reeling over his wife's behavior that when he found a wand pointed at his own chest.

"Ronald," she said, her eyes blazing, "I suggest you leave now. You've incapacitated him. He's petrified until one of us gives the counter. I won't have you threatening a guest of this house when Harry has obviously offered him sanctuary. What would Harry say if he heard you talking like this?"

"He would say that he thought his best friend had grown up a bit more." Ron and Hermione both jerked their heads over to see Harry sitting up on the bed, rubbing at his still mending wrist absently. "Honestly, Ron, after seeing what he's been through since he's been here, do you honestly think he'd WILLINGLY be working for DarkStar? Your prejudices against Malfoy are no better than his prejudices against muggleborns used to be."

Ron did not move as a powerful witch—his wife, but a powerful witch nonetheless—was still holding a wand to his chest. He watched Harry take a deep breath. "Ron, he's obviously out of commission until we bring him back around, and your shouting is exacerbating what seems to be a dragon-sized headache, so I think it'd be best for you at this point to go take a walk and calm down before coming back in here. I'll get Malfoy back in his restraints so that Hermione and I can figure out what to do next."

"No, Harry," Hermione responded. "I think I need to go have a little chat with my husband. Can you see to Draco for a few minutes? I'll be back shortly." Ron felt his wife jab his wand into his chest.

"Are you mad, Hermione?" He finally said, turning back towards his wife. "I'm not leaving Harry alone with that THING--" he spat towards Malfoy's still petrified form—"when it's OBVIOUS he's still got you two under some sort of compulsion." Ron was surprised to feel a second wand jabbing into his chest.

"Go with Hermione," Harry's irritated voice drawled. "You don't even have to leave the flat, just leave the bedroom for five FUCKING MINUTES so I can see if I can salvage some of the damage you just caused!" Ron watched Harry take a deep breath and shuttered when his burning green eyes met Ron's. "I will hex you, Ron, if you don't get out of here in the next ten seconds."

Ron fumed in disbelief but knew better than to fight Harry when he was like this. He turned around and marched towards the living room, tossed floo powder into the fireplace, and in an instant he was gone. He arrived in the living room of the house he shared with his wife and headed straight for the bottle of Ogden's in the kitchen. He knew at this point he was fighting a losing battle, and just hoped that he didn't lose his two best friends – to their anger or death – before the evening was out.

* * *

"Harry, I'm SO sorry," Hermione said as she looked sadly at Harry. He just smiled gently at her.

"You know Ron's temper," he shrugged. "Give him a couple of hours and he'll be ready to talk about it like an adult."

"Perhaps," she said with an exasperated sigh, "but at this particular moment he's very protective and will probably feel better if I don't keep him waiting. I've been talking with Draco tonight and I definitely have gotten some ideas I'd like to share with you, but I suppose it can wait until morning." She gestured over to Malfoy. "Are you sure you're going to be able to handle him?"

Harry smiled. "No problem, 'Mione. I think the two of us should talk anyway." Hermione just beamed back at him before reaching up and kissing his cheek.

"I'll be back in the morning," she said and walked towards the floo herself.

After listening for the _whoosh_ of the floo, Harry turned back to Malfoy. His body was still petrified in an awkward position, and his eyes were shining. "_Finite Incantatem_," Harry whispered gesturing towards the blonde. Malfoy, slowly, oh so slowly, uncramped his arms, but still couldn't get his legs to work. Harry could literally see the battle for self-control being waged in Malfoy's eyes before he saw him scrunch his face and eyes up tightly and crumple back to the ground. Harry gently lowered himself next to the blonde on the floor and scooped him into his arms.

"Malfoy?" he whispered, but got no response other than the shivering. "Draco?" The blonde seemed to tense slightly at hearing his given name but otherwise did not respond. Harry took a deep breath.

"Draco, I heard everything you and Hermione talked about, and I have to tell you that I agree with her. Don't listen to anything Ron says. He's just a hothead with a terrible temper." Harry felt Malfoy push himself out of Harry's arms.

"But he's still right, Harry," he said brokenly. "Everything I ever did, everything I ever suffered, I deserved every bit of it. And here you are, this bloody SAINT of a man who takes me into your home anyway, and what do I do? I attack you almost the moment you walk through the door. I am just a worthless piece of shit…" With that Malfoy covered his face with his hands again.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Draco, you're not worthless. I won't deny that you've made some mistakes, but you can't just give up on life now because it's gotten a little rough! If anything this is your chance to make up for those mistakes and prove to YOURSELF who you are capable of being." Draco's sobbing was quiet but persistent.

"Potter," Draco said in a bitter tone (and why did it make Harry's chest ache that Draco had reverted to calling him _Potter_), "if you haven't noticed I'm pretty well useless now. Most of the wizarding world thinks I'm dead, and even if I could go out and do something it'd have to be at night since I have NO desire to be back in sunlight again. I can't control this fucking bloodlust for more than a day before I have to feed, and no, not from just anybody, but from the fucking Chosen One of the wizarding world, and on top of all that, I can't even get my legs to work to shift me from here back to the fucking bed that's been my prison ever since I was lucky enough to be RESCUED from a crazed vampire hive." Malfoy took a deep breath, and Harry found himself relieved to hear that some snarkiness had begun creeping back into his voice. "And while we're on the subject, are you and Granger just STUPID or what? I mean, honestly, both of you had more than ample opportunity to get me back into restraints and you didn't. How do you know I'm not going to just try to drain you dry again?"

Harry smirked. "Draco, you've had the opportunity to drain me dry, without protest, TWICE now, and haven't done it either time. If you were going to kill me you'd have done it already. And frankly I think the restraints seem a moot point now. You've proven your trustworthiness, and like you said, it's not like you're going anywhere." Malfoy flinched, and Harry felt like bashing his own head in for his lack of sensitivity. He took another deep breath.

"Look, as long as we're being honest…I gotta tell you, there were PLENTY of times when I felt useless. During the war it kept feeling like people were dying all around me and that I SHOULD HAVE been able to do something about it. Even afterwards when Ginny—" he paused and considered whether to continue or not, which caused Malfoy to lock eyes with him in curiosity. Harry decided to just follow his instincts and bite the bullet. "When Ginny died, I blamed myself for years, thinking there was something I could have done, something I SHOULD have done to prevent it. Hell, I still blame myself for that sometimes." He felt his own eyes getting watery and quickly pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to avoid the eventual onslaught.

The silence had just begun to get uncomfortable when Draco's voice penetrated it…"Harry, if…if you don't mind telling me…how did…your girlfriend…how did she die?" The stumbling was so unlike the Malfoy that Harry knew that he couldn't help but smile.

"She…she was pregnant with our child. She had passed out at Molly's house during a visit, so we took her to St. Mungo's to get it checked out. They put her in hospital for observation because of her blood pressure. I should have stayed with her, but she insisted I head home and get rest so I'd be excited to see her in the morning." He felt Draco flinch next to him and he knew his magic had started to respond to his bitterness and anger towards himself. "I got a floo-call that night. Her blood pressure had shot up and something in her brain hemorrhaged. She was dead almost before anyone knew what was wrong. And I know somewhere in the back of my head that there was nothing I could have done to stop it, but I keep thinking maybe if I'd stayed there that night, maybe if I had been there to give her help just a second sooner, she and my son would be here today."

And with that, Harry felt a set of floodgates open that had not been open in years. He was absolutely FURIOUS with himself for getting that emotional, especially in front of Malfoy, but his anger subsided when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap cautiously around him, attempting to give comfort. "I'm sorry," he heard the blonde whisper next to him.

The two stayed like that for several long minutes, with both occasionally sniffling or stopping to wipe tears, but not removing themselves from the floor or each other's embrace.

Finally the blonde next to him spoke up. "Harry?" he heard the timid voice ask.

Harry took a deep breath. "Yes, Malfoy?"

He heard and felt a quiet snort next to him. "Back to Malfoy, are we Potter?"

Harry laughed. "I suppose old habits just die hard." He looked up to see Malfoy grinning back up at him.

"What say you we start a new habit?" He reached out his hand to Harry. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Nice to meet you."

Harry saw the symbolism in the gesture for what it was and reached out to clasp Draco's hand in his. "Harry Potter. Nice to meet you."

"Well, HARRY—" Draco said, emphasizing the name, "It would seem I am in need of assistance in getting to bed. Seeing as how the sun is almost up, we should probably both be getting to sleep." Harry chuckled next to him before casting a lightening charm on the blonde and helping drag him back up to the bed. He helped Draco get settled in before heading towards the living room.

"I know you've been sleeping on the couch," the voice called from the bed just as he was leaving the room. "There's no reason for you to do that. This bed is plenty big enough for two." Harry could feel the blush rising to his cheeks.

"I'm not sure that's the SAFEST idea, Draco," he said finally. "Knowing how much you want to drink me dry." Realizing what he'd just insinuated, his blush deepened until his face seemed to be radiating heat.

Draco brushed off his concern with a wave of your hand. "I wouldn't worry about it. The—vampire—for lack of a better word, it won't let me drink from you without your permission. That's why I've always been able to stop." He frowned slightly at the admission, but shook his head as if to dispel the negative thoughts. "And besides," he finished, looking up to Harry, who could see the slight red tint to Draco's face as well, "I don't think I should be left alone tonight."

Harry nodded. Without another word, he kicked off his trainers, still fully clothed, and climbed onto the empty side of the bed, turning to face away from Draco and whispering "_Nox"_ into the darkness. He listened to the breathing of his companion as it slowed to almost non-existence before allowing himself the luxury of slumber, surprisingly relaxed with the solid weight lying behind him.

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